Stay Away from Blood Tree Pass
by BlueberryToasterTart
Summary: Blood Tree Pass is forbidden, filled with wretched creatures and dark magic, none to kill the strongest of Vikings without mercy. But Astrid can't turn down a dare to prove her bravery. She takes the forbidden pass, alert for its dangers, but is unprepared for the unforeseen consequences.
1. Chapter 1

A/N – I couldn't wait anymore to dive into this new story. I won't tell you anything about it here, but if you have any questions feel free to ask. Happy reading!

 **Stay Away from Blood Tree Pass**

Stay away from Blood Tree Pass

Lest you be taken.

Monsters there have taste for sweets,

especially children.

Witches' stew boils of poison

Their hearth fires do not warm

Their bloodthirsty pets, the beasts,

Lurk in shadows and in still waters.

They wait for little Vikings to go wandering,

To snatch and devour.

Beware, little children,

Stay away from Blood Tree Pass

Lest you be taken.

 **Chapter 1: Blood Tree Pass**

A chilled wind rustled through the forests that surrounded Berk, but Astrid refused to let the shiver show and forced her limbs still. A few steps behind her, the others talked as they walked about the typical boasting nonsense that followed training down at the arena. She's bested all of them, in every category, but she chose not to join in their gloating. She didn't like the feeling of it on her tongue, or the sound it made on theirs.

"Did you see the way I completely obliterated that barrel?" Snotlout bragged. He jogged up the few steps to walk beside Astrid, pointing a stubby finger at his chest broad chest. "Did you see that babe? I did it for you."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "I'd like it better if the barrel obliterated _you_."

Fishlegs giggled, but at a glare from Snotlout, his smile vanished.

" _Piff_ , you just wait until next time," Snotlout said as he lagged back to walk with the others.

Astrid sighed, the walk back to Berk from the arena was more exhausting than the training itself. Why couldn't they have built it closer to the village? Why had they gone for the other side of the forest? Someone hadn't been thinking, clearly. If she had been in charge, she would have built it much closer.

"I'd give it one of these, and then one of these," Snotlout said as he imitated fighting the stationary barrels, grunting as though his enemy was real.

"Oh, right, those barrels won't stand a chance," Tuffnut snickered, his sister Ruffnut joined in.

Astrid fingered the full blade of her knife. It had been her mother's father's, and her mother wouldn't let her trade it in to Gobber for something newer and sharper. It was an heirloom, she said, even thought it was chipped and stained.

"I would've won, I mean, if I hadn't been _tripped_ ," Snotlout started to say, but Astrid cut him off, far sick of his whines.

"I didn't trip you, Snotlout," Astrid snapped. "You were in my way."

Snotlout harrumphed. He laughed it off and said, "Whatever, you were scared that I'd beat you."

"What?" Astrid spun, dull knife in hand, pointing it within an inch of Snotlout's nose. She stood a good three inches taller than him, and gladly looked down at him.

Snotlout's dark brows shot up and his wide mouth froze in a silent gasp. Fishlegs, even though by far the largest teen, yelped and covered his mouth in his usual cowardice while the twins looked on with humored, wicked grins. Snotlout brought his hands up and took several quick steps back, tripping over his own feet and tumbled onto the dirt path.

"Exactly," Astrid said, pointing to him with the blade. "You can't even walk without tripping over yourself. Besides, I'm not afraid of anything. Especially you."

Astrid turned around and put the old blade away. She didn't like how it felt in her hands.

Snotlout stood up. He huffed, "If you're so brave like you say, I dare you to take the shortcut home through Blood Tree Pass."

Astrid spun around and silence settled in around them. Snotlout had crossed his arms, pointing his nose in the air and smirked smugly.

"What?" Astrid spat. She bit back the urge to send him home bleeding, to make him explain to his father had a girl had hit him.

"You heard me, go home through Blood Tree Pass. Or are you too _scared_?" Snotlout taunted. The twins smirked, but Fishlegs looked as though his eyeballs might pop out of his head. Snotlout took a brave step toward her and spoke in a baby voice, "Are you afraid the monsters might get you?"

"No," Astrid spat. She clenched her fists. "Fine, I'll go through the pass and beat you home. Then, tomorrow you can be my knife throwing target."

Snotlout laughed, "Right, if you live."

The twins snickered. Ruffnut added, "Right if you live."

Tuffnut chimed in, "Which you won't."

"Oh, this is a horrible idea!" Fishlegs said through his hands, his voice several pitches higher. "We're not supposed to go that way!"

"Oh, you scared too Fishlegs?" Snotlout taunted, his eyes bright.

"Yes!" Fishlegs shouted. "I am very afraid of Blood Tree Pass. You should be too! You don't know what kind of evil things are in there!"

"There's nothing in there, Fishlegs," Astrid said firmly.

"What about Gnarck?" Fishlegs trembled. "He didn't believe either and…" His voice dropped to a whisper, "He saw the witch! And he died the next day! He was cursed!"

"Oh, he was not," Astrid said, throwing her arms up.

"Then how did he die?" Snotlout asked. "No wounds, no nothing. The guy was just dead."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "I don't know, but I doubt it was because he saw a witch."

"Prove it then," Snotlout jeered. "If you see a witch and don't die, I'll believe you."

Astrid crossed her arms. This was stupid. She balled her fists, bent on knocking Snotlout's teeth out of his smug face. Snotlout seemed to understand and backed up a safe distance.

"I will prove it," Astrid said calmly, in the best superior tone she could muster. "I'll beat you losers home."

Astrid spun on her feel and continued on the path, toward Blood Tree Pass. She heard their footsteps and whispers as they followed. Blood Tree Pass lay off the beaten path, and wound down the hillside, and directly separating them from the village. The beginning of the path looked none threatening or malicious, and the only thing identifying it so were the few Blood Trees intermingled with the pines.

Astrid stood at the opening off the pass and looked down the thin, winding trail. She could do this. Easy.

Behind her, Snotlout laughed. "Yeah, see you never."

"Because you're going to die," Tuffnut added. Ruffnut mumbled something but it was too low to hear, but the twins both laughed.

"This is such a horrible idea," Fishlegs whined, hands over her eyes, as if he might see something just in passing.

"I'll be fine," Astrid said, and took her first step onto Blood Tree Pass.

She left the others behind quickly, and after the first turn in the path, she glanced back to see if they had followed. They had not. Finally without their glares, she took a firm look at the path before her. The pines grew fewer and far between, as the twisted, black trunks of the Blood Trees increased. Their thin, crooked black limbs reached out like broken fingers in every direction. A sad pine had been taken over by the stretching fingers, choked and squeezed to a gray husk.

They were called Blood Trees for their bright red leaves. Unlike the pines, as winter drew closer the red leaves brightened to a frighteningly bloody color and slowly fell. Astrid took a careful step to a nearby Blood Tree and reached out for a bright, red leaf. The browning stem snapped under her touch and the leaf fluttered to the forest floor.

She sucked in the gasp that nearly escaped. She wouldn't be afraid of leaves or trees.

Still, the legends bore into her mind. Blood Tree Pass was forbidden, especially so when the Blood Leaves began to fall. According to the stories, that is when the magic is strongest and the monsters are the hungriest. Astrid shook her head and continued her trek down the pass. She could still turn back, but she couldn't face Snotlout's taunts. However, if she were caught going through the pass, Stoick would be furious.

She has seen Stoick's anger at the twins and Snotlout more than a few times, and she had no desire to see that cold fury turned on her. That frightened her more the monsters.

With every step on the pass, the pines were less and less, and soon the Blood Trees encroached on both sides, as far as she could see. The bright sun shone above, but the leaves blocked most of it from the forest and left it in a bloody darkness. Astrid kept her eyes sharp, peering between the trees, but saw nothing.

There was no such thing as monsters. There was no such thing as witches.

A wind rustled through the bridle leaves, sliding through the air in a feminine sigh, an out of tune song of a dozen voices. Astrid spun, looking for the source of the sound, but saw no one.

 _There's no one else here_ , Astrid told herself. _It's just me._

She didn't feel alone, not at all. The gnarled black branches laced together over the path and cut out the late afternoon sunlight, encasing her in a Blood Leaf tunnel. Astrid kept going. The faster she moved the sooner she would get out.

Something scurried just out of sight. Astrid jumped, turned, but kept her pace. She didn't want to, but she looked side to side as she walked, looking for anything. It must have been the lack of sunlight and profuse shadows, but things scurried always just out of sight. Larger things moved, but she never saw them. She heard lumbering bodies shifting through the darkness, heavy footfalls meeting the ground, the snarl of something that she did not want to meet.

Astrid reached around to tighten her grip on the handle of her trusty axe. She kept the edge sharp, unlike the useless knife. If anything came close, it would be halved. With her eyes in the forest, Astrid didn't see the pile of leaves until she stepped on it. At once, a terrible, shrill little cry burst the silence. She jumped back, axe primed to swing down, as a yellow monster darted out of the leaves. She swung the axe, but the thing darted too fast. The blade sank into the dirt as the monster vanished into the underbrush. Bulging, yellow eyes glared back at her from the shadow.

Astrid yanked her axe from the ground and held it to her chest. Her breath ran rampant and her entire body felt like it might shake apart. She stared back at the tiny monster, not wanting to avert her eyes or back down. It blinked and vanished into the forest, out of sight.

When she had struck the ground, she struck fallen Blood Leaves. Several clung to the blade, and as she flicked them off, they left small red stains. She cringed. She would have to clean the blade as soon as possible or someone would notice. Her hands, too. Astrid flicked the last one from the blade when she heard it.

Footsteps. Calm, steady, footfalls, one after the other.

Astrid froze and tightened her hand around the handle. She couldn't see anything in the forest but trees and shadows. Those weren't monster footsteps, but distinctly human. Her heart pounded as she scanned the darkness. Should she run? Should she stay to attack? Should she hide? She stood in the open on the path. Cover. She needed cover.

Astrid backed up slowly to the forest's thicker shade. She contemplated her actions when she heard a low whistle, somewhere not that far off. Pressing her back to a tree, she watched and waited. She wouldn't let a witch sneak up on her. She would kill the witch before they got the chance to curse her, and drag her body home as a trophy.

There. Someone, not something, with two legs. Astrid squinted into the darkness. Whoever it was, they were far too skinny to be Snotlout in disguise, or anyone from the village. It didn't seem as though they walked toward Astrid, but to something else. They came into view between two trees as they stopped. From beneath the cloak came two thin arms that picked up the little monster that Astrid had tried to kill. The yellow thing rested in the someone's arms, quite comfortably.

Astrid caught her breath – a witch.

Those yellow eyes look lazily around the forest as a pale hand scratched his back, until they settle on Astrid and widened at once. The witch holding the monster looked to, as if the creature had told him, and from under the cloak's hood were two very human eyes, green as summer, staring back at her.

At once, fear surged and Astrid dashed from the forest and onto the path, determined to reach home before that damned monster could catch up. They were real, the witches were real, those commanders of monsters and magic, horrible forsaken humans, twisted into abominations. Astrid stumbled a few times but pushed herself back up without stopping. She remembered that day when Gnarck came back from the pass, shaken and sweaty, telling of a woman he had seen in the woods. It had been her father who had found him dead the next morning, without a clue of his death.

Astrid met the end of the pass and kept going until she was racing inside her own home.

"Astrid?" Ingrid, her mother, stood by the hearth were a boiling strew steamed. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Astrid said too quickly.

Ingrid shook her head, "You aren't due back for another thirty minutes."

Astrid shrugged, not wanting to tell her mother the truth, "I was really worked up after training today. I felt like running, so I did."

"Is that why you're out of breath?" Ingrid raised a brow.

"Yes," Astrid said quickly.

"I never knew training to work you over that much," Ingrid said, not taking her eyes off her daughter.

"You know how the Jorgensons can be." Astrid wasn't lying, or so she told herself.

"Aye, that I do," Ingrid sighed. "Like father like son, unfortunately. Still, you look a bit pale. Are you sure you're alright?

Astrid bit into her tongue. "I was feeling a little off today that must be it."

Ingrid nodded, "Oh, alright. It is getting to be the sick time of year. Sit down, I'll make you some tea."

"Thanks, Mom." Astrid gladly took a seat at the familiar table.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – From an editing perspective, this could have went right after chapter one. I'm regretting my decision not to lump these two chapters into a single, better chapter. Lesson learned; don't rush chapters.

X

Chapter 2: Fly Away, Little Dragon

Astrid wrapped her hands around her warm tea. Her mother fussed over dinner, a sizzling chunk of mutton in a warm sauce that filled the house with tasty aromas. Ingrid was a fantastic cook and often made too much for just the Hofferson house which brought neighbors and friends to their evening table.

Astrid watched her mother effortlessly roast the meat and prepare the juice and vegetable. She did not inherit her mother's talent with food. Instead, she received her father's quick eye for battle and sharpness in combat, and according to her mother, his stubbornness and blue eyes. Astrid brought the tea to her lips. Bitter. She tasted the herbs her mother put in the winter stew, for health and balance, she said.

A heavy hand fell on their front door. Ingrid threw a towel over her shoulder and stepped to the door and pulled it open without hesitation. Stoick the Vast stood tall and proud on the other side.

"Ah, I could smell the mutton from the Great Hall," Stoick said with a wide smile, half-hidden by his massive red beard. "How are you, Ingrid?"

Ingrid laughed, her friendly charm of a chuckle, and waved his compliment away with her hand. "Oh, I'm just fine."

Stoick's eyes settled on Astrid, and his grin faded. "Astrid, you're home early. I haven't seen the others yet."

Astrid tore her stare away from Stoick and forced her gaze down into the tea. "I went ahead of them."

"She said she hasn't felt well today," Ingrid said.

"Is that so?" Stoick asked. "I'm sorry to hear that, Astrid. It is getting to be that time of year, again."

"Aye, that's what I thought." Ingrid nodded, returning to her stew. "Will you be joining for dinner, Chief?"

"Oh, I just might." Stoick nodded. "I haven't smelled anything near as appetizing today. Well, I will let you get back to your day."

"See you, Stoick," Ingrid waved as their chief exited through the same door he entered.

The door began to close on its own, however it didn't meet the doorframe. Snotlout burst through it with the twins and Fishlegs close behind. Wide eyes stared at Astrid as they clogged the doorway, stacked on top of each other like insects. Astrid couldn't give them another excuse for rushing to her door for the tea in her mouth. She made to swallow her, but her mother spoke first.

"Yes?" Ingrid asked.

"We were just coming to make sure Astrid made it home," Snotlout said, disbelief leaking through his sneer.

"They were worried," Astrid added, right on the heels of his words. "When I said I didn't feel well."

Ingrid stared at her under a mother's narrowing, knowing gaze. Astrid bit her lip. She was caught, she knew, but Ingrid wouldn't fuss over it with the others standing there.

"Huh," Tuffnut said, hand on his chin, studying Astrid calmly. "I really thought we'd never see her again, you know? It was a gut feeling. You know how my gut is. It's generally right."

Ruffnut giggled, "That's not half of it."

Tuffnut glared sideways at his sister, but whatever snide comment he'd had slipped from the tip of his tongue and glued his mouth shut. Stoick reappeared in the doorway, overshadowing the four teenagers in front of him.

"What does he mean by that, Astrid?" Stoick's tone was not a question. The venom had risen, and she knew it could turn sour within a single word.

When Astrid failed to make an excuse, Ingrid asked her, slowly, "Astrid, why were you home early?"

Stoick took a step into the house and Snotlout flattened his back against the door to let him pass. The others stood behind the chief, all looking like a dragon that had cornered a sheep, expect for Fishlegs, who looked as though he might pass out. Stoick said lowly, "How early were you? Early enough to have taken a shortcut?"

Astrid swallowed, her throat had gone dry. Underneath her mother's gaze she felt small, but under Stoick's she felt as though something stood on her chest and press her into the ground. She felt the color slip from her face, just as the words skidded away.

"I-I…" Astrid began, but looked down at the table to avoid the multiple stares. "I went through Blood Tree Pass."

Stoick inhaled and Astrid clenched the mug, preparing for the storm, but he hesitated. Astrid chanced a peek up at him. He looked as though he might explode. He turned to the others and said in a deadly tone that shook the house, "Go home."

"Yes chief!" Fishlegs squeaked, and then vanished.

The others lingered as long as they could under Stoick's gaze. He shut the door behind them and suddenly it felt much too dark. Astrid met Stoick's eyes, but quickly averted them to the tea. His eyes shone bright with anger and disappointment. She tried hard not be the subject of disappointment, and to impress the elders. She had done well, until now.

"I shouldn't have to tell you about the dangers of that pass this time of year." Stoick spoke calmly, but every word laced with venom and rage. She prefer his shout; this felt much worse. His voice softened, layered with a sorrow that made Astrid cringe. "People go through, or even just near, and they're never seen again. What would your mother do if something happened to you?"

Astrid kept her eyes on her tea. She supposed he had every reason to hate the forest. Fifteen years ago the forest had taken both Valka, his wife, and Hiccup, his young son. They wandered too close, they said, and the forest took them. Stoick had never gotten over it.

"Think of your family, of your friends, of the people that would miss you." Stoick said lowly. "Think of the daughter your mother wouldn't get to see grown, or married, or happy, and all because of one stupid mistake. Your life is not worth the pride you risked."

Stoick turned to leave and Astrid caught her mother's stare. She had more to say, but would wait.

"Astrid," Stoick asked, hand on the door. He turned, and Astrid wish he hadn't. He looked ten years older. "Did you see anything in the pass?"

"No," Astrid shook her head. "Just trees and leaves."

Stoick inhaled, and Astrid feared he'd call her bluff. He didn't, to her great relief. He swung open the door and closed it behind him. Astrid sighed loudly and took another gulp of her tea. It grew cold.

"Well?" Ingrid said.

Astrid shrugged, "Well, what?" She knew the look on her mother's face. Disappointment.

"You're a horrible liar, just like your father." Ingrid came to sit across from Astrid. She lowered her tone, "What's wrong?"

"Mom," Astrid started.

"Why did you go through the pass? You know it's forbidden."

"I know, I know, Snotlout dared me." Astrid covered her face with her hands. "He wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I turned him down."

Ingrid groaned. "Your stubborn pride will be the end of you."

"I'm sorry," Astrid said. "I know it was stupid. But nothing happened."

"If could have," Ingrid said. She studied her daughter across the table, and after a long moment she leaned onto her elbows. "Did something happened?"

Astrid gapped, unsure if telling her mother would end badly. She already sat in hot water, what was a little more? She nodded. "I did see something, two somethings. There was a tiny dragon and a person. I thought it was Snotlout at first, trying to scare me, but it wasn't. The little dragon went to them and let them hold it, like some kind of baby."

Astrid paused her story to look up at her mother. Ingrid sat frozen, white-faced and wide eyed. Her voice wavered into a whisper, "Baby, you saw a witch?"

"Mom, please, don't say anything." Astrid reached for her mother's hands. "I don't want Stoick to know. He's already mad at me. And I don't want the entire village looking at me like I'll drop dead at any time."

Ingrid shook her head.

"Mom, please," Astrid begged. Ingrid stared at her as though she was already dead, and it tore at Astrid's insides. "If I die within the week, fine, tell all the people you want. But if I don't, then no one can know. Okay?"

Ingrid reluctantly nodded. "Okay."

Throughout dinner, Astrid felt her mother's eyes on her back. The Jorgensons joined them, as well as Stoick and a few other neighbors, and they sat around the hearth fire as they devoured the stew. Astrid kept her distance from Snotlout. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction that she had gotten into trouble, which to him equated to her losing.

Over the table, his gloating I-told-you-so arrogance made her want to drown him in the stewpot. It would ruin the stew, but Snotlout would be dead. She satisfied herself with knowing how she would him in training and show him who's a loser.

The sun touched down on the western horizon and doused the village in gold. Their guests disappeared into their own homes one by one, and soon the house again held just Astrid and her mother.

"This house is too quiet with your father gone," Ingrid sighed, one eye on the window and a hand over her heart.

"It's only been a month," Astrid pointed out, as indicated by the dashes carved into the wood just inside her parents' bedroom.

"And every day seems a year," Ingrid sat down in her favorite chair beside the hearth. "Last time he was gone for nearly seven months. I don't think I can handle that kind of time again. I told him so, but he listens about as well as you do."

Astrid yawned.

"Don't go sleeping on me yet," Ingrid pointed a finger at her. She tried to smile but her words were hollow. "You'd better help me clean all this up before you die."

"Right," Astrid smiled back at her, attempting fake humor, but something inside rumbled at the thought that she might not wake the next morning. It was all foolish nonsense, of course, but it still sent a shiver alone her spine.

Astrid helped her mother wash and clean the kitchen and table and by the time Ingrid deemed it finished, sleep pulled at her eyelids so hard she barely made it up the stairs. Barely a conscious thought lingered as Astrid collapsed into her bed.

X

Yellow had been with him as long as he could remember. The little Terrible Terror slept curled at his feet every night and kept his feet warm. Toothless wanted to sleep in the bed, too, and it had taken a while for him to understand that he was much bigger than a Terrible Terror.

"Yellow?" he called, inching his way through the forest. He kept his hood up in case his mother found him wandering this close to the village. He shook that thought; she would be furious.

A dash of yellow flickered just out of view and he hurried to find the little dragon before something happened. He came to the edge of the forest, but Yellow was nowhere in sight.

"Yellow!" he whispered.

His heart beat fast. He'd never been this close to the village without his mother before. The buildings were all made of wood and the Vikings were large, several times his size, at least. He stood behind a tree to avoid being seen. Had Yellow wandered into the Viking village? He kept close to the tree as the village began to wake. Maybe he'd just stay here a while and watch. His mother wouldn't have to know.

X

Astrid woke to Ingrid's screams. She jumped from her bed, grabbed her axe, and took the stairs three at a time. She leapt into the kitchen with her axe swung over her shoulder. Ingrid stood against the wall, wide eyed, with white knuckles gripping an iron pan in defense.

"What's wrong?" Astrid asked, lowering her axe at the empty kitchen.

"It's under the table!" Ingrid shrieked, pointing downward.

Astrid looked again, but still saw nothing. She took several steps forward and peered underneath the table, where a tiny yellow dragons nibbled on a stale loaf of bread. It blinked, one eye at a time, and slanted its thin neck to look at Astrid. Her breath caught in her throat. The same dragon had stared at her from the pass, before the witch had appeared. Astrid wheeled around, axe drawn upwards, half-expecting the green eyed witch to appear in her kitchen. When no such being came, she lowered her weapon.

"Open the door," Ingrid said, motioning. "I'll get the broom and swish it out. Kill it outside or let someone else deal with it. I don't want guts on my floor again."

"Right," Astrid nodded and held her axe in one hand and grabbed the door with the other. She opened it, but not before peering out. No witch in sight.

Ingrid grabbed the broom and turned it upside down, and slowly moved the handle toward the little dragon. She tapped the table to get its attention and wiggled the handle at it. The tiny dragon bent down and narrowed its bulging eyes at the intruder, and grabbed the bread in its shape little teeth and waddled toward the open door. Once outside it took flight, and it hadn't cleared the rooftop before shouts spread throughout the village.

"Dragon!" and "Dragon attack!" were among the many war cries as Vikings flooded out of their doors and fields only to find the sky clear, save for one little beast carrying away a moldy loaf of bread that weight half as much as it did. Astrid stepped outside just as she heard the _swish_ and _clunk_ of a firing crossbow.

She clutched her axe as the cheers erupted. A stone fell into her stomach and expanded and she leaned against the doorframe as the feeling pushed into her chest and gut.

"Astrid, dear?" Ingrid asked. "Are you alright?"

"I don't think we should have done that," Astrid said quietly. She glanced toward Blood Leave Pass, with the sickening sensation that someone watched back.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – First, I must say thank you to all my awesome reader. You guys rock. No doubt.

I've never done this before, but is there anyone one out there willing to do some cover art for this story? So far all my covers have been the icon I drew in the "paint" program. As you can see, I have very little artistic ability. If there are any volunteers, please PM me!

In other news, I finished my draft of a novel today. That means I'll have more time to write these stories. Whoo! But not tonight, because I'm exhausted. Too much writing makes Blue's brain mushy. Like it is right now.

X

 **Chapter 3: Fighting the Chill**

Astrid woke to a chill and hugged her blanket around her. She'd slept in an extra pair of socks, but her toes still tingled. She hugged her blanket tighter as she got up and padded to the window. Berk lay underneath a layer of fresh, bright white snow. She wanted to keep the blanket, but knew she couldn't. She wasn't a child anymore. She threw it back onto her bed and pulled on an extra fur over her shoulders.

She tucked her feet into her boots and grabbed her trusted axe from its resting place beside her bedside table before heading downstairs. Gobber would never cancel training, no matter how much snow fell.

"Morning, dear," Ingrid said from her place by the fire. She lifted another log onto the flames and encouraged the embers with a well-used iron poker. She, too, wore more layers than normal. She used the table to stand, and hadn't been on her feet a moment before an awful cough shook her entire frame.

"Sit down, Ma, I'll make some tea." Astrid set her axe by the door. She scooped water into the kettle and set it over the warm fire.

"Thank you, Astrid." Ingrid sat in her favorite chair that had been scooted closer to the hearth. Dark circles under her eyes grew in the shadow from the fire. Her gaze shifted to the window. "Those skies promise more snow. Thor, I wanted to be rid of his cough before winter."

"There's still time." Astrid measured the herbs into a mug like she had watched her mother do so many times. She'd been drinking more tea of late.

"There's nary a leaf left out there," Ingrid said, a bit accusatory.

Astrid inhaled. She remember only a part of the old rhyme: winter begins when the leaves disappear. There was more, but her memory didn't hold onto such useless things.

"I can take it from here, Astrid. You don't want to be late to training. Gobber may not look fierce, but he's still a Viking when he's angry." Ingrid tried to laugh, but a cough wracked her chest.

Astrid reached for her axe and held it firm. She bit her lip as she walked through door and into snowy Berk. She met the others before the edge of the village; none of them were eager about the weather either, and they started to the arena together.

"Why is it so cold?" Snotlout shivered. The tip of his nose had gone a bright red.

"It's called _winter_ ," Fishlegs chimed with his chubby finger in the air. Snotlout glared and Fishlegs dropped his hand to his side. "Does it bother you Snotlout? _I'm_ not cold."

"That's because you're a yak," Snotlout pointed.

Astrid ignored their banter. Her mother's cough had gotten worse and winter wouldn't be pleasant to her. She would need to stay indoors. Astrid accepted that it meant she would be doing more work around the house, but her mother's health was worth it.

She crossed her arms. If only her father would come home. Her mother missed him a little more every day. Why did he have to stay away so long? Was adventure really worth more to him than his wife and daughter? If something happened to Ingrid, he wouldn't know. Astrid bit her tongue and forced those thoughts out of her head. Nothing would happen to Ingrid. Colds and coughs went around like a shared bread basket. It was nothing to worry about.

The arena loomed out of the mountainside and Astrid gladly ducked inside. Gobber was already there and the straw-stuffed dummies had been arranged. He greeted them with his golly shout and the training began just as a light snow fluttered from above.

X

The woods looked so empty this time of year. Everything was dead and brown. He stood among the empty Blood Trees. Their once bright red leaves had rotted and faded, trampled upon by dragon feet into nothing. The empty trees reached in every direction with their small, twisted branches and snagged more than once on his cloak.

A chilled wind blew through the bare forest and he hugged the cloak around himself. He should return home. His mother would be upset if she knew he wandered this far to the village. He could just see the tips of snowy rooftops and smoking chimneys from where he stood, and he wanted so much to go farther, to walk right into the village and meet those he'd watched for so long.

He had seen _her_ a few times, that girl from the trail. He watched her and the others her age leave and return to the village. They walked around the Blood Trees to that training arena where Vikings were trained to kill and fight. His mother said teaching children to fight was an absurd, ruthless, and brutal practice. He had watched them a few times, swinging swords and hammers at fake people and dragons. It certainly look absurd, but also entertaining.

She said that it had been their fighting that had taken Yellow, most likely. He hadn't told her that he witness the little yellow dragon being shot from the sky. He wouldn't admit to being that close to the village.

Why had they done so? If he asked her, would she tell him?

He had also watched them return to the village. He knew where she lived, too. He would never go see her. She wouldn't know him. Would she?

Something moved behind him and he spun, afraid that his mother had snuck up on him once again. The forest floor muffled careful footsteps. He lowered himself to the floor and waited, but no one spoke. Finally, a Deadly Nadder poked through the far trees. Relieved, he stood and raised a hand to greet the dragon.

X

Astrid and the other Vikings waded through snow thrice as deep as it had been that morning. She'd gotten used to the chill in the air and held her arms at her sides. Snotlout held himself most of the walk, shivering and complaining. Her stare lingered down the narrow path leading to Blood Tree Pass. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. They went the long way around, just like always, and rejoined the shivering village.

Looking forward to a warm cup of tea, maybe some soup that night, Astrid jogged the rest of the way to the house. Of course, she'd need to chop some firewood before dinner. She pushed the door open and stomped the powder from her boots on the threshold.

"I'm back," Astrid announced to the empty hearth. No soup bubbled over the simmering hearth fire. Astrid dropped her axe by the door. "Mom?"

The house's deafened silence tugged on her chest. Astrid ran to her mother's room and shoved the door out of the way. Ingrid was on the floor, crumpled with one hand above her head.

"Mom?" Astrid cried and collapsed on the floor beside her. She lifted her mother onto the bed. Ingrid responded with a mumble and her eyes flickered. Astrid placed a hand on her mother's cheek. "Mom, you're on fire."

"I just…I just need a nap," Ingrid said softly. "Astrid, would you make me some tea?"

"Yea," Astrid said immediately. "Of course. I'll be right back. Just stay in bed."

Ingrid's eyes closed and Astrid pulled the blanket over her. Her hands shook as she set the kettle on the fire.

X

Astrid sat in her mother's chair by the warm hearth. Stoick stepped out of the bedroom, followed shortly by Gothi's tiny slumped shoulders.

"Well?" Astrid jumped out of her chair.

Stoick inhaled, but didn't speak. Gothi shook her gray head.

"What does that mean?" Astrid demanded.

"Gothi has herbs for you to give her," Stoick said as Gothi reached into an old satchel. She took out two bottles and serval pouches. "Mix it in with tea, three times a day. Is that right?"

Gothi nodded.

Astrid took the herbs in her shaking hands and set them on the table. Stoick said something else, but she didn't hear him. His large hand fell onto her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Astrid. The village will take care of you." Stoick's words were meant as a comfort, but their grim meaning only worsened the unease in her stomach.

The day passed slowly. The Jorgensons brought dinner, but didn't linger too long. Gobber stopped by and excused Astrid from training until her mother felt better.

"Don't you worry Astrid, you're the best warrior of your age, and maybe even of the village. It'll take the others years before they come close to you." Gobber winked and patted her arm with his real hand. "Don't let that axe get rusty, though."

"I won't," Astrid said.

The sun faded and rose the next morning, and still Ingrid slept. Astrid made the tea as Gothi instructed and watched to make sure her mother drank it all. She kept the house going and the hearth burning. She tried to weave the wool together, like her mother had shone her, but it never looked as good.

The next few days passed in the same dismal manner. Dinner came with sorrowful guests, sad to hear that Ingrid had fallen ill, giving Astrid firm knowledge that she would be alright if somewhere were to happen. Astrid thanked them, but wished they would stop. Nothing would happen to her mother. She wouldn't need substitute parents.

The house no longer smelled of warm mutton or rich soup, instead incense hung heavy on the air and herbal tea had sunk into the wood. Ingrid came in and out of her feverish daze, and no day brought her closer to recovery. Astrid sat by her bedside, but doubted if Ingrid knew she was there. When her thoughts threatened to push on her tears, she would leave.

"It was no doubt your gallivanting down that pass that did this," Spitelout said one day after he had brought dinner that his wife had made.

Astrid swallowed hard. "I doubt that."

Spitelout shrugged. "It's forbidden for a reason, lass. I hope you learned your lesson."

"Thank you for dinner," Astrid said sharply and closed the door.

Her heart hammered. Could he be right? She set the bowl down on the table and walked to her mother's bedroom door. Her labored breathing broke Astrid's heart in two. Had she caused this? Instead of cursing her, that witch had cursed her mother? Could it had been that little dragon? She knew shooting it down had been a horrible idea. This could be some revenge scheme. But Ingrid hadn't shot it down. Why?

Tears stung Astrid's eyes and she turned away. Even if her mother slept, she refused to let anyone see her cry. Astrid crumpled on the floor by the hearth as tears ran down her cheeks. What if her mother died? What if it was her fault? There had to be something she could do. Without thinking much about it, Astrid raced toward the door. She burst out into the evening air and ran toward the pass.

The cold stung her lungs and froze old tears to her lids. Her chest ached and her lungs shivered with each breath as she bolted down through the bare, gnarled Blood Trees. Her feet stomped on the snowy, untouched ground. Finally, she collapsed onto her knees. Her breath slowly caught up with her.

The sky had faded from daylight into wintery twilight. A few steps ahead of her were several sets of fresh tracks in the snow. Astrid stood back up on shaken legs. This was where she had first seen the witch. She was sure. That green eyed witch had to be around here somewhere. Astrid drug her feet out of the snow and into the crunchy, winter-rotten underbrush. She looked in every direction, but saw no one.

Several things, _large_ things, moved in the distance. Great shadows lumbered through the forest. The monsters paid no mind to Astrid, if that was indeed what they were. Astrid kept her eyes open, shutting them only to blink. She was determined to find that witch or die trying. She pressed on through the never-ending trees. At last, in the fleeting rays of twilight, she spotting a lean something moving about just out of view. It paused, then continued.

"Wait!" Astrid shouted. Her voice broke through the deafening silence with such force it surprised her. The figure paused. "Wait! Don't go!"

The figure did not wait, but ran. Astrid darted after it. She kept her eyes on the witch and slowly gained her ground, but the forest was an unfriendly place to strangers. The witch easy slid down a small ravine, but a bramble grabbed Astrid's foot and into the ravine she tumbled. The hard ground poked and prodded and something hard met her head, sending her vision into bright lights and darkness.

She stopped falling, but her head pounded. In her blurred vision, a garish mask loomed out of the darkness. Behind it, a great, yellow dragon eye blinked. Astrid knew she should run, scream, or anything but lie down. Her limbs refused to obey her and the world felt too far away for her to be a part of it.

"Please…," Astrid panted. Her voice drifted in the space between her and the witch, a vapor, a gasp. "I'm sorry…for whatever I did to upset you…"

The mask tilted.

"Please, lift the curse from my mother…take me…instead." Astrid tried to hold onto her reality, but it pulled from her grip and sent her spiraling into the darkness.

A strange dream plagued her sleep, of a cavern-house and a warm, bright fire, of a mask looming over her. A hand touched her cheek, first a rough palm and then the smoothed back of the hand. A soft voice spoke but the words were lost in the dream-space. She was warm, and safe, and nothing else mattered.

X

Astrid woke up with a start. She stared up into the night sky where stars waved back at her. She blinked, and the bare Blood Trees came into view. Their branches swayed in the breeze. Astrid pushed herself onto her feet and a horrible pain shot through her head that brought her to her knees. She pressed a hand to her head.

The forest around her was empty, except for one shadow that looked too full.

"Is that you?" Astrid asked, head in her hands. From her sideways view, the shadow came closer and turned into the cloaked figure. Two green eyes looked out from the hood and two very human hands poked out from the sleeves. "Who are you?"

Whether or not the witch would response, Astrid wouldn't know. The silent pass erupted into a loud cried.

"Astrid!" Gobber shouted. "Astrid! Stoick, she's here!"

Astrid took her eyes off the witch for just a moment to see Gobber, torch in hand, running as fast as he could toward her. Stoick appeared not far behind. Astrid quickly looked back toward the witch, but he was gone.

"Astrid!" Stoick roared. He passed Gobber and scooped Astrid up in his large arms. "She's freezing. We need to get her back to the village."

"Right." Gobber limped behind him.

He felt impossibly warm. It reminded her of her dream, of the surrounding warmth. Stoick brought Astrid back to her home, where Ingrid leaned over a warming kettle.

"Gods, what happened?" Ingrid asked softly, a hand over her chest. She stepped over as Stoick set Astrid back on her feet. Ingrid reached for her hands immediately and pulled her daughter into a hug.

"Mom?" Astrid hugged her mother in disbelief. "You're okay?"

"Yes," Ingrid said, putting a hand on Astrid's face, first the palm and then the back, just as the dream-hand had. "Are you?"

Astrid blinked. "Yes."

Ingrid sighed. Bags lingered under her eyes and her lips were chapped. "Thank the gods, child, I thought something terrible had happened to you."

"Why? I don't understand," Astrid began, but Stoick cut her off.

"You've been gone for three days, Astrid." His face told her he wasn't kidding.

Astrid gapped and shook her head. "No, I left just this evening, I-I…couldn't have been gone that long."

"You were," Ingrid said softly. "But we can talk about this in the morning. You need your rest."

"I agree." Stoick nodded. "We will talk about it in the morning."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N – Hello! Thanks for reading – I appreciate it! I'm glad to know that this story is enjoyed. I spent a little while today working out the plot, and before you ask, I've got a few varying plotlines. I'll keep writing it out and see where it goes. But don't worry, I've got an endgame in mind.

Also, if there are any artists among the readers that feel up to creating a cover imagine for this story, feel free to PM me. WyvernsWeaver made me a cover for Prince Hiccup – go check it out. It's amazing! (Thanks a ton!)

X

 **Chapter 4: Mind Your Tongue**

She stormed about the house in such a fever that he had never seen. Her graceful hands that tamed beasts flew through the kitchen, replacing herb jars and ground powders, with a cold, silent fury that shook his heart.

"I can't _believe_ you would do such a thing, Hiccup," she mumbled under her breath. She turned suddenly, her brow together and her glare sharpened. "You should never make contact. They would kill you outright."

"I know, I know," he stammered, pushing dirt around on the stone floor by the hearth. "I-I didn't mean to. It was-"

"An accident. Yes, you said so." She sighed through her nose and shoved the last herbal jar back into the wooden cabinet and slammed. "The whole of Berk could be scouring the woods for us right now. You have no idea what danger you've but both of us into, not to mention the dragons."

Hiccup had heard this speech several times, but never with such an anger. "You'd rather me let her die out there?"

His mother huffed. "That girl will bring nothing but trouble. Just you watch."

It was his turn to huff. He crossed his arms.

"What did you say to her?" She spoke with such an accusation that he felt like shouting back, but he held his tongue.

"Nothing, I-I didn't say anything." The fire crackled in the other room. A dragon walked above ground, its feet thumping on the other side of the stone ceiling, a gronkle by the sound.

"Likely," she said. "That is why when something happened to her mother she came looking for _you_."

He shrugged. "Really, Mom, I don't know."

She stared him down for a few long moments. Her breath came and went, slower with each one, and at last she broke the stare and shook her head. "Hiccup, I have told you countless times to stay away from the village."

"I know," Hiccup pleaded. "I wasn't near the village. She was on the pass and I heard Yellow cry and that's when I saw her."

"And she saw you?" she added.

"Yes," Hiccup nodded. "But I didn't say anything, I promise."

"Fine," she sighed. "If we are lucky she won't remember anything. She hit her head hard and reacted well with my sleeping tea. But, just in case, keep your head down and stay away from the pass, _and_ the village."

"Yes, Mother." Hiccup waited to make sure the speech was finished before walking into the hearth room. He sat down beside the warm fire, on the makeshift bed that the girl had slept in. He hadn't been allowed in the room while she had been there, only his mother. But he didn't have to be in the room to hear the girl talk in her sleep, pleading.

"Hiccup," his mother said from the doorway, leaning against the uneven stone. Her tone had softened considerably in the past few moments.

"Did she really think that I cursed her mother? Because we saw each other that day?" Hiccup fingered the edge of a fraying blanket as he spoke. The girl had curled up in it and held onto with tight fists.

"The Vikings are suspicious and narrow minded," she said, as she had said many times on the subject. "They see only what they want, nothing else."

Hiccup looked at his mother. Her eyes were lost in the flickering fire. Distant thoughts had clouded her face, softening the edges and smoothing the finer lines.

"Mom," Hiccup said softly. "You lived in the village, right?"

Her stare didn't falter. "Yes, but that was a long time ago. I was never welcome, even then."

"Why not?" Hiccup asked, thirsty for the details of a life he wouldn't know.

"I was not afraid of the dragons as they thought I should be," she said quietly, a dark, bitter triumph ebbed her words. She blinked and looked at her son. "Don't ask me anymore about it. I wasn't welcome them and I most certainly wouldn't be welcome now."

With every word her voice shook until she bit her lip to end the quivering. Hiccup sat on the bed while she stomped from the room.

"You're grounded," she called back. "I mean it this time! No flying! No leaving this house without permission!"

Hiccup sighed and leaned back against the wall. Toothless wouldn't like that at all.

X

Astrid woke to a kind hand on her shoulder. Her mother stood over her, a smile on her chapped lips. Astrid's dream of masks and shadows vanished with the daylight.

"Get up, Astrid," Ingrid urged. An extra shawl draped her shoulders. "Stoick is downstairs, and so is someone else who'd very eager to see you."

Astrid rolled onto her back and the dull headache set in. She put a hand to her head and the blurred events of the previous evening came back. She set up with a groan.

"Come, I've already made breakfast." Ingrid gave her daughter's shoulder another shake. She spoke with a giddiness Astrid rarely heard.

"What's going on?" Astrid asked, head in her hand.

Ingrid smiled and a sheen lined her eyes. "Your father got in last night."

Astrid sat up, never mind the pain. "What? He's here?"

"Yes, come downstairs!" Ingrid motioned. "He surprised me last night. I thought someone had broken into our house. Oh! He stood over the bed and I had a terrible feeling until I saw that it was him. I wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time."

Ingrid ran back down stairs and Astrid heard the familiar grumble of her father's voice. She shoved her feet into her boots and raced down the stairs without fixing her hair. The hearth fire burned brightly and her father sat at the table across from Stoick. Their lively conversation died as Astrid neared the bottom of the stairs.

"There is my baby girl," Harald Hofferson beamed. He stood up and held his arms wide as his daughter flung herself into them. "You're getting so big! Look at you! Soon you'll be as tall as your mother."

Astrid smiled as her father's large hand rested on top of her head. He looked the same as he had before, like he'd slept in a barn and forgotten to comb his hair. It fell down his shoulders in tight tangles that he tied together with string. New lines stretched across his cheeks as he smiled, but his eyes were the same blue.

"Why didn't you wake me up when you got home?" Astrid asked.

"I would still be here in the morning," Harald patted her head. "And I needed my sleep, and as I've been hearing, so did you." His smile straightened and a frown took its place. His hands fell to her shoulders. "What is all this I've been hearing about you and the Blood Tree Pass?"

Astrid swallowed. Ingrid looked at her from beside the hearth where eggs sizzled. Stoick stared from the table.

"Come sit," Stoick said. He patted the surface of the table. "Eat something. Your mother worked hard for this breakfast."

"Yes, she did," Harald agreed. His strong hands squeezed her shoulders and ushered her to the chair across from Stoick.

Ingrid quickly placed a mug of steaming tea and a plate of eggs and mutton in front of her. Like all of her cooking, it smelled delicious.

Harald sat in the chair beside her. "Eat, dear. You look thin."

It was not a suggestion, but a command. She did, and hadn't brought the first forkful to her lips before Stoick and Harald began to speak.

"Stoick here told me of your adventure down the pass, both of them," Harald said darkly. "I didn't believe him at first. I said that my daughter wouldn't have openly disobeyed the chief like that. She knew better. She is too smart to do such a careless, dangerously thing. But here, my own wife told me it's true. My sweet, smart girl went wandering down the pass not once, but twice."

The mutton turned in her mouth and refused to be swallowed. A strong hand lingered on her back.

"Astrid, why did you do it?" Harald asked. "Tell me honestly."

She swallowed several times to force the chewed mutton down. "I thought they cursed Mom."

"Ah," Harald said. "I see. I can understand that. I would face down witches for your mother, too. But, who do you think cursed her?"

Astrid swallowed a large gulp of tea.

"Astrid," Stoick asked. "Did you see someone that first time?"

She bit the inside of her lip. "Yes. I saw someone, but I-I didn't stay. I ran when I saw him."

Harald and Stoick exchanged a dark look.

"Him?" Harald asked. "The witch is a man?"

"I'm not sure," Astrid said. Her father's hand twitched between her shoulder blades.

"And it was him you went back to see?" Harald asked, bitterly.

"Yes." Astrid nodded. Her mouth went dry as she continued, "I went back to ask if they would take me instead of Mom." She heard her father's low exhale.

"Then what happened?" Harald asked.

"I saw him, but he ran away. I chased him. I fell, I think, and everything after that is blurry." Astrid poked at her eggs with the fork. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry.

"You couldn't have been lying in the woods for three days," Harald said sternly. "You would have frozen to death."

"I wasn't outside," Astrid said, straining to remember that strange dream. "I was inside, I think, in a house of some kind. There was a fire and someone leaning over me, and…a hand on my face."

Stoick's fists tightened on the table and her mother gasped. Harald gripped her arm and yanked her attention away from her plate. His gaze bore into hers with the ferocity that had terrified her as a child. "The witch took you?"

"You saw him?" Stoick asked. "What did he look like?"

"I don't know," Astrid stammered, feeling quite small between her father and Stoick's heated stares. "He wore a mask."

"You must have seen something," Harald said, gripping her arm tighter.

"He was tall," Astrid said. His grip loosened only slightly. "He wasn't very big. He was thin, like the trees. And…"

"And what?" Harald said.

"He had green eyes," Astrid said, remembering them vividly. Her father's hand let go of her arm and she took a large drink of the tea. Memories came back in small bits and pieces. "I drank tea. It was warm and bitter…but it's all a blur. I remember being tired."

Stoick's gaze softened. His brow had risen with surprise and something squeezed in Astrid's chest. Stoick's eyes were undoubtedly familiar, but before that thought could plant itself in her mind Harald grumbled something under his breath, something that sounded like a word he used but she was not allowed to.

"What does this mean, Stoick?" Harald asked the chief.

"I don't know," Stoick shook his head. "But whatever it is, I don't like it."

"Neither do I," Harald stood up and paced by the fire. He spoke to Stoick, "Thor only knows what happened while she was out of it. Why not kill her and be done? Why would they let her live unless they _wanted_ her to live? They kept her alive and kept her asleep to hide something from her, from us."

"You think they had a reason to let her live?" Stoick asked, hand on his chin.

"Why else wouldn't they have killed her on the spot? Why else would the witch have taken her into his home? Why else would they have let her go unless they had other plans?" Harald spoke to Stoick, but pointed at Astrid.

Ingrid held the wooden spoon to her chest. "Harald, what are you saying?"

He looked mournfully at his wife and then at his daughter. "I don't like Astrid being in the care of a witch. She could be cursed, or tainted, or whatever else they can do."

"No, I'm fine," Astrid protested. The words he spoke were not directed to her, but at her, like she no longer existed. It dropped a weight of stones into her stomach.

"I don't care how you feel, Astrid," Harald thundered. His glare lingered and she felt small. He turned to Stoick. "I want her under constant watch until we can safely assume they didn't harm her."

"No!" Ingrid shouted. "Please, Harald, don't care her away from me."

"I won't," Harald said kindly to her. "If the village knew she would be torn from us before we could do anything. This can't be known to anyone else."

"Agreed," Stoick nodded.

"One of us need to keep an eye on Astrid," Harald said. "She will stay in her room. She's gotten her mother's sickness and won't be of any use for a while."

Ingrid paled and her hands shook. Astrid stood up. "No, I'm fine! He didn't curse me."

"Astrid, don't argue with me," Harald said with a dangerous growl under his breath. He gestured toward her stomach "You have no idea what that monster could have done to you. You could be carrying his seed for all we know."

"No, she's only a child," Ingrid tried to reason.

"She's been a woman for nearly a year now, regardless of her age." Harald sighed deeply and turned to face his daughter. A darkness loomed over his stare and Astrid wanted nothing more than to run from the house and pretend this morning never happened. "It would be safe to give her some of that tea of yours, Ingrid."

"Yes, dear," Ingrid said. She turned to the cabinets and her hands shook as she searched for the special tin of tea.

The house turned sideways and Astrid felt it slipping away. That couldn't have just happened. Her father would never accuse her of such a thing. Her father hands lifted her to her feet and up the stairs. Dazed, she did not fight when his hand pushed her into her dark bedroom and closed the door behind her. Something heavy slid on the other side and she snapped back to attention.

"Wait!" Astrid said, banging her fists on the wood, but it didn't budge. The sliver of light underneath vanished. "Don't do this! Dad!"

"It's for your own good, baby girl." Harald's footsteps thundered on the stairs and his voice became too low for her to hear, but her mother's sobs echoed upstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N – Sorry about the long wait. I've been busy. I said I wouldn't wait until the weekend to do all my homework, and I didn't leave ALL of it, just a lot.

I was meandering through the outline of this story and there is a direction that I'm leaning toward…however, it's not extremely original, although one of my favorites. I'm not sure yet.

Thanks for the follows and reviews! I'm really glad that my strange AUs are enjoyed.

X

 **Chapter 5: Cold Medicine**

Astrid sat at her bedroom window and watched the snowy village below. Hoark chopped wood. Mrs. Ingerman set steaming pies on her windowsill. Gemma's two boys threw snowballs at each other, and one at Sven. He chased them around the house until Gemma appeared in the doorway and shook an angry finger at Sven, then at her boys.

Astrid sighed. She'd built several snow-Vikings as a child, and knocked twice that many down with her axe. She could barely remember standing next to a snow-dragon four times her height. The tiny axe she held had been made of wood.

A soft knock interrupted. Her mother's voice sounded on the other side of the barricaded door. "Astrid? Gothi is here to see you."

Astrid sat up straight. "Okay."

The barricade scraped along the wooden floor and the door slowly opened. Her father and Stoick stood in the hall, blocking the stairs. Gothi padded inside and dropped a leather bag onto the dresser. Her mother entered carrying a steaming cup of tea. She set it beside the bag and grab the door's handle.

At once, Harald stretched out his hand. "What are you doing?"

"I'm closing the door," Ingrid said simply. "Girls only, dear."

Harald crossed his arms and Ingrid shut the door on him and the chief. Gothi reached into the bag and withdrew a strange accumulation of things. She set a yak hoof on the floor and motioned for Astrid. Gothi placed small chicken bones into her hands and then pointed to the yak hoof.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" Astrid asked, jingling the bones.

Gothi pointed to the floor.

"Drop them around the hoof," Ingrid instructed.

"Why?" Astrid asked.

Ingrid sighed. "Just do what she says."

Gothi pointed with more urgency. Astrid shrugged and let the bones fall from her hands. They scattered around the hoof and clattered to a silence. Gothi drew close to the mess, examining something that no one but her could possibly have seen. After a long moment, she rose and nodded.

"What does that mean?" Astrid asked.

Gothi drew in the dust with her stick. Ingrid crouched to read it first.

"She says you're fine. Anxious, but otherwise fine." Ingrid said with a kind, relieved smile. "Gothi advises that you destress."

Astrid glared at her mother.

The tests continued. Astrid inhaled the steam of the tea, held a stone in her hand while she drank it, and then dropped the stone blindly onto the floor. Gothi read the tea leaves and examined the stone and its placement.

"What does she say?" Astrid asked as her mother read Gothi's dust-scribbles.

"You are healthy," Ingrid said. "Avoid the half-moon."

"What?" Astrid asked.

Ingrid shrugged, then smiled broadly at Gothi. "Well, what does it mean then?"

Gothi shrugged.

Astrid assumed the worst had passed, and then the worst began. Gothi instructed to her undress and lie back on her bed.

Astrid crossed her arms. "What? Why?"

Ingrid cleared her throat. "It's just another test, dear. It'll be fine."

Ingrid closed the window. The winter chill persisted as Astrid removed her clothing. She shivered as she scooted onto the bed, trying to conserve what heat she had left. Gothi pulled the fur from the end of the bed and pulled it over her. Ingrid appeared at the bedside and yanked the fur up to her daughter's chin.

"You _will_ catch a cold like this," Ingrid said.

Gothi only exposed what she needed, and covered it again when she finished. Her knobby hands fingered her limbs, poking and prodding. Astrid kept her eyes on a knot in the ceiling wood. She clenched her teeth as Gothi's attention shifted to her womanhood. Astrid tried not to think about her cold hands or what she looked at or what she looked for.

She thought about the tree that had been cut down so she could have a rooftop. The knot in the beam twisted and swirled viciously. The tree must have been gnarled. Astrid thought of a wide tree with long thick branches crashing to the ground.

"She's done, then?" Ingrid asked and brought Astrid back to the present.

Gothi nodded. She smoothed over the dust with her foot and began to scribble something else. Ingrid knelt over the bedpost to read it.

"Well?" Astrid said as she tightly held the fur around her.

"You were not violated," Ingrid said at once, a hand on her chest and a sigh on her lips.

"I told you that," Astrid said. "Didn't you believe me?"

Ingrid looked at her daughter, a flush in her cheeks. "Yes, of course I did. But…you said you were asleep. Anything could have happened."

Astrid shook her head at her mother. She couldn't believe those words. "You didn't believe me?"

Ingrid tried to say something else, but Harald's voice stomped on the door.

"Well? Are you finished?" he howled.

"Yes, but wait a moment," Ingrid held her hands out as if to catch the door.

Astrid quickly dressed and no sooner did she stuff her feet into her boots than the door opened. Harald stomped inside with Stoick a few paces behind him.

"She is perfectly fine," Ingrid said.

Harald looked between his wife and daughter and then at Gothi, who gently nodded her wrinkled, gray head.

"Well, we couldn't be sure, could we?" Harald huffed. "Still, everyone thinks you are sick. You'll stay up here at least another week."

"A week?" Astrid cried, straining her throat. "Are you serious? Dad, I'm fine!"

"The village thinks you are deathly ill, and you will stay up here. Stay away from the window. I don't want people thinking me a liar or wondering why I lied." Harald shook his finger at her.

"But, Dad-"

"No, your father is right Astrid," Stoick interrupted calmly, his massive hands up to buffer the anger between father and daughter. "At least we know that you are healthy. It would be wise to remain in disguise for a while."

Astrid glared at Stoick, but ultimately declined to argue further. "Okay."

"I accept that this will remain between us?" Harald asked Gothi. She gently nodded and scooted past him toward the stairs, her leather bag of treats under her arm.

Harald and Stoick left, thundering down the stairs. Harald mumbling something too low to hear, and then Stoick said lowly, "Wait a week or so and you'll see."

"Wait a week for what? My nonexistent disease to go away?" Astrid snapped to Ingrid.

"No, I believe your father intends to wait for your next bled," Ingrid said. She picked up the empty tea mug and looked down at the nonsense remains. "It will prove to him that you aren't carrying some…demon child or whatever he thinks."

"Mom, can't you talk some sense into him?" Astrid pleaded. "I can't stay in here forever!"

"I have tried," Ingrid said proudly. "But he's as stubborn as you. It's like trying to talk sense into a stone."

Astrid shrugged and collapsed onto the bed. Her mother sighed and gave her daughter one last look before she shut the bedroom door behind her. A moment later something heavy scooted back in front of her door.

X

A week passed as Astrid studied the knot in the wood. She wasted away under the fur blanket as another snow fell, and then another. Every morning Astrid watched the neighbors shovel their way out. This morning had been no different.

A soft knock on her doorway announced her mother. "Astrid, come down for breakfast."

"You mean I'm allow out?" Astrid crossed her arms.

"Yes, for the meal," Ingrid opened the door. "Now come on, before your father changes his mind."

"It smells great," Astrid said as followed her mother down the stairs. Sizzling eggs and mutton had wafted up and made her mouth water for more than the bread and tea shoved through her door twice a day.

Harald said nothing as Astrid joined her parents at the table. Astrid stuffed a forkful of warm, buttery eggs into her mouth. The taste melted and she moaned. Her mother smiled at her, and then shot a deadly look at Harald. He didn't seem to notice.

"I saw Hoark rolling a barrel of mead into the Great Hall," Ingrid said as she cut through her mutton. "And then Mulch and Bucket followed with enough fish for a village."

"There is a council meeting tonight," Harald said. "The annual winter meeting."

"Ah, that sounds exciting," Ingrid said.

"I would gladly let you go in my place," Harald said humorlessly. "It's dead boring and by the end everyone's had enough mead to kill a small yak. There isn't much on the agenda besides Snoggletog, routine things, fishing routes and inventory. With any luck it won't take more than the afternoon."

Ingrid nodded.

Astrid cleared her plate, and Ingrid had spooned another helping of egg onto it just as the horn sounded. The three of them froze, seemingly along with the rest of Berk, as the air turned still as death. The horn sounded again, breaking through the silence as if Thor himself stomped on the world.

"Is that…?" Ingrid whispered.

Harald stood up and reached for his sharpened blade by the door. Astrid's eyes went up the stairs to her room where her axe rested beside her bed. The silence pressed into her ears.

"Maybe it's nothing," Ingrid whispered, hand over her chest.

The horn sounded, and in the silence that followed came the first dragon roar. It shook the sky and rattled Berk. Harald threw the door to the house open and shouted into the sky, blade at the ready. Astrid scrambled to the door in time to see the high sky littered with dragons, wings spread, impossibly high. Vikings emptied into the streets, weapons drawn, eyes to the sky, ready to fight for their lives and village.

Astrid stepped over the threshold just as a dark Monstrous Nightmare flew over their house, nicking the top with its feet. The massive wings shifted the air and her hair blew wildly around her head. She grabbed it away from her eyes in time to see the Nightmare's horned head turn. The dragon landed on Gemma's rooftop. Shouts and arrows flew at it and a liquid fire erupted from its wide mouth, smothering a wheelbarrow and Gemma's stack of firewood.

"Astrid!" Ingrid yanked her back inside the house as the fiery battle began. Blade, dragon, and war cry met in the street, but Astrid saw none of it. Ingrid shut the door and pulled her daughter to the backroom. Its walls were made with sturdy stone. Ingrid thrust Astrid inside.

"No, I want to fight!" Astrid tried to escape the room, but her mother shut the door.

"No, you're not trained yet and are a week two soft," said Ingrid. She pointed a finger.

Astrid stomped and crossed her arms. "Fine. But I'm going to training tomorrow."

"That is fine," Ingrid nodded. "At least we're be alive."

A roar like thunder shook the sky and Ingrid cringed. The house shook and the earth trembled. As a little girl, Astrid used to fear the island crumbling and falling back into the ocean. During storms, thunder shook the ground. During dragon attacks, the ground shook. Even though she was no longer a child, it still worried her.

"Will Dad blame this on me, too?" Astrid asked after too many moments of chaos.

"I don't know," Ingrid said. "The dragons have been attacking longer than you have been alive, so I doubt he'll have much traction. Still…they haven't attacked in some time. I suppose that doesn't matter. A matter of time."

Astrid sighed slowly. Her mother rambled when nervous. It was a habit that Astrid thankfully did not inherit.

X

After the dragons left, the village began to pick up the pieces. Astrid and Ingrid helped Gemma douse the fire in her house while Harald joined the men in dragging away larger debris and rebuilding roofs and walls before another snow made the task impossible.

"I'm glad to see that you are feeling better," Gemma said to Astrid. She had a cut on her arm from a fallen beam. Gothi had patched it up quickly. Both boys survived, unscathed.

"Me too," Astrid smiled. She swept the last bit of ash out the new, roughly made door.

"She's had a long day," Ingrid said. "If you're planning on going to training tomorrow you'll need your rest."

"Your mother's right," Gemma nodded. From the upstairs, her boys played with toy Vikings and dragons as if they hadn't almost died that day.

"Off with you then," Ingrid shoed. "I'll be home shortly."

Astrid wanted to argue, to say that she felt perfectly fine, but didn't. She handed her broom to her mother and made the short walk to her house. Their home hadn't been damaged, save for the talon scraps on the topmost of the roof, but nothing more. She washed up and collapsed on her bed, expecting sleep to come easily.

It didn't. She got up and meandered to the window. She spotted her father, along with several other men, climbing the steps to the Great Hall. She'd forgotten about the council meeting. The Great Hall's massive doors closed and a light snow began to fall. No doubt this attack would be spoken about in earnest.

Did her father suspect her to blame? She knew that he would not tell his fears to the council. Astrid wrapped her arms around herself. She slunk to the bed and tried to find sleep. She tossed, turned, and twisted in her blankets. Ingrid came home, by the sound of the front door and her groan, and went straight into her downstairs bedroom.

Astrid flopped onto her back. The underlying fear couldn't go away. Could this be her fault? What if it was? Had someone died tonight because of her? They won't know the toll until tomorrow.

She got up and went back to the window. A few low fires still burned. The snow had stopped, but had enough time to lightly dust the village. The Great Hall fires still burned bright. Astrid wrapped an extra fur around her shoulders and tiptoed down the stairs. Ingrid slept, and didn't make a sound when Astrid opened the front door.

She wasn't sure what she planned to do. She shut the door carefully and crept through the dark village. The sentries and night patrol were quiet tonight; dragons never attacked twice in a day. Astrid trudged through the snow and debris, toward Blood Tree Pass. She hugged the fur tighter around her shoulders.

The path through the forest had been kept safe from the snowfall. The twining, crooked branches of the canopy caught most of it, and now cradled it in the air. The snow blocked out the moonlight and left the pass in darkness. Astrid walked slowly, following the scarce holes in the snowy canopy.

She looked in every direction, but did not see the witch. Did they sleep after an attack? Even the shadows slept, it seemed. Their absence from the wood left a vast silence. Her footsteps upon the dirt were the only sound, echoing through the wood, bouncing off trees. She stayed a long while, looking, walking up and down the pass, looking for the green eyed witch, but she didn't find him.

Astrid didn't know what she would do if she found him, but she had to know the truth. Had he done something to her? Had the second? Her mother was right, she had been out of it. The entire memory blurred in and out. But…he had saved her, hadn't he? Why would he save her only to hurt her? A shiver ran down her spine. Was it a rouse? Had she fallen into their trap?

Those thoughts were not healthy, she told herself. She hugged the fur closer and made for home. As she entered the village, the snow began again. The Great Hall's doors were still closed tight. Astrid crept back up the stairs and into her room and collapsed onto her bed. Unpleasant dreams swirled in her mind, of witches and dragons and locked doors.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N – Sorry about the long wait between updates. We talked about it, remember? Work and homework and life. I didn't work on my novel much this weekend. I helped plan a surprise party and it was an exhausting couple of days. But enough of my whining – onward!

X

 **Chapter 6: Learn Them Right**

Astrid woke to a delicious smell wafting upstairs. Her eyes opened to the ceiling above her bed, the knot twisted in the beam, and the stale stench of smoke and burnt Berk reminded her of the day before. She wanted to pull the blanket up over her head and sleep until winter was gone. She didn't.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and hoisted herself to her feet. She wrapped her hand around her trusted axe and squeezed the well-worn leather handed. The familiar weight eased her like a good friend, and old ally. Anymore, she was beginning to think that her axe might be the only one on her side. Always had been, of course.

She strapped it to her back just in case her mother had forgotten her words the night before. Astrid planned on going to training that day regardless of whatever nonsense argument her father made. When she made it to the bottom of the stairs, amid sizzling eggs and seasoned chicken, the air changed.

Her mother held her father's gaze. His knitted brow told Astrid she had walked straight into a conversation that he didn't want to continue in his daughter's presence. Her mother's glare told her that she disagreed. Astrid held her tongue. She took a seat at the table. She planned to slice through the thick tension as if it weren't there.

"How was the meeting last night, Dad?" Astrid asked casually. She accepted a plate from her mother and a mug of warm tea.

"Fine, Astrid," Harald said. His tone matched his brow; he was tense. He held his hands under the table, presumably in fists. He cleared his throat, but not in the clogged-throat way, in the listen-to-me way.

Astrid paused her fork over an egg. Her eyes found her father's. He held her gaze and she refused to look away. After a long moment, he looked back at her mother.

"In light of last night's events, the council has renewed its hunt for the witches," Harald said sternly.

"Oh?" Astrid feigned interest. That renewal no doubt came at her father's encouragement.

"I kept my mouth shut about you," Harald said through gritted teeth, as though he'd been accused. At once he shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, sighing heavily. "I am sorry. It has been a long night. I haven't slept."

"I could have helped with the village," Astrid said. She would have, too.

"I know," Harald said wearily. "But with your…illness you need your rest. But, renewing the hunt will undoubtedly increase the danger. That is the risk. Stoick agreed. This last dragon attack was among the worst we've had. It's either us or those damn beasts."

"How will they hunt them?" Astrid asked. She wouldn't tell him her curiosity wasn't purely educational.

"The same they always do," Harald scowled. "Scour the woods. Claim it for ourselves. Push the witches back until there's nowhere left to hide. We'll burn the forest down if we have to."

Astrid wanted to tell him that burning it all down felt extreme. She thought, for a horrifying moment, of her green eyed stranger lost in a forest cage of fire and gnarled blood trees. Her gut wrenched and her breakfast looked less appealing that it had before.

"There is good news from last night," Ingrid chirped, forcibly cheerful through the thick gloom. She pointed her spatula at her husband. "Tell her, dear."

Harald nodded. "We managed to capture a few of the beasts last night. Gobber wants to use them in training."

"Really?" Astrid gapped, higher pitched that she would have liked. She'd never fought an actually dragon before, only seen them from the sky. The thought of standing in the arena with one was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Harald nodded. He looked at his daughter with an unreadable expression of pity, confusion, and something that twanged Astrid's gut like fear. She devoured the rest of her breakfast and tried her best to ignore him. She'd prove to him that she wasn't cursed or whatever he thought still. She would prove her worth to him, to Stoick, to the village.

"I can't wait to see them," Astrid said. Her parents did not argue with her. Her empty plate hadn't hit the surface of the wash-water before she was to the door and out into the snowy village.

X

Astrid walked with the other teens toward the training arena with a new excitement in the air. Snotlout talked big, threatened nonexistent dragons with tough air-punches and snorts. He thrust his blunt-headed hammer in his fist. Fishlegs, although giggling-happy, nervously rattled off facts about common dragons that he'd memorized from the Book of Dragons. Astrid had read it several times, too, but she hadn't taken it word for word in her head. Right now, she didn't have to. Fishlegs had enough memorized for all of them.

The twins had a blast making up dragon facts, and dragons, and watching Fishlegs cower with every new imaginative invention. Ruff stood on one side while Tuff stood on the other, inching their way closer to him, whispering while he shrank into himself.

"Stop it!" Fishlegs finally exclaimed, throwing his pudgy hands into the air and running several steps ahead of the twins.

Fishlegs almost ran into the arena's door trying to get away. Astrid paused when she heard it – a great dragon roar, then another, more guttural than the first. She swallowed and held her chin high as Snotlout's bravery diminished into fear and he took a step closer to Fishlegs. She held her face still.

Gobber's cheerful laughter broke through the air. He limped toward them, his wooden peg leg thumping on the stone. He wore his all-purpose hook. He smiled wickedly, "You've heard about the newest members of the class?"

"There's already _there_?" Snotlout asked.

Gobber pointed his hook at Snotlout. "You betcha there's already there! It's high time you lot got some field experience. Let's go."

Gobber led the way down into the arena much like he did every training session. He hoisted the iron gate up as if it weight nothing and it clicked into its holding place as they walked underneath it's point edges. The heavy, reinforced doors that lined the arena's curved walls banged and creaked. Muffled roars and muted fire-blasts came from behind them.

Astrid felt the trembled in her chest but refused to let it show. Fearless. She watched Snotlout's knees buckle as he walked. Pathetic. She wouldn't show that same ugly emotion. She was a Hofferson, after all. Time to starting acting like it.

"Today will you learn about the dragons that we face," Gobber said as he paced in front of the gates, hand and hook behind his back, watching them all in turn. "These are just a few of the many species out there. The Deadly Nadder." The door behind him shook and the beast behind it chirped and squawked. "The Terrible Terror. The Monstrous Nightmare. The Hideous Zippleback. And…" Gobber paused in front of a door and poised his hand over the door's release lever. "The Gronkle."

"Whoa, whoa!" Snotlout jumped back a step with his hands outstretched and nearly dropped his hammer. "You're not going to teach us first?"

Gobber smiled his lopsided grin. "I believe in learning on the job."

He opened the gate and the Gronkle burst through with a flaming puddle of lava, throwing red-hot droplets in every direction. The teens scattered as the dragon came toward them. Astrid dove out of the way and rolled back to her feet as the dragon went after a screaming Fishlegs.

The Gronkle looked like rocks that had melted together, slow but tough. Its small wings flapped rapidly, but the dragon moved slowly. Fishlegs zigzagged and the dragon couldn't follow. Fishlegs turned sharp and the stubby dragon flew head-first into the stone wall of the arena, but seemed to be only a little distubred.

"What's the first thing you need?" Gobber shouted above the chaos.

"Plus five speed?" Fishlegs gasped as the Gronkle rounded on him again.

 _No, idiot_. Astrid scoffed to herself. "A shield."

"A shield!" Gobber pointed to Astrid with his hook-hand. "A shield is your most important ally. If you have to choose between a sword and shield, take the shield."

The Gronkle grew tired of Fishlegs and decided to dive-bomb the twins, who then ran in opposite directions and led the dragon into another wall. Its body collided sideways with the stone and thudded against it, rattling an angry dragon-door, and the dragon behind it.

"A dragon has a limited number of shots," Gobber said. He walked around the arena calmly, as if there weren't a raging dragon bouncing around. His composition was admirable and Astrid intended to copy it. It made her panicked classmates look like complete fools. "How many shots does a Gronkle have?"

Astrid wasn't sure. She didn't have time to think much about it as the Gronkle came at her.

"Five?" Snotlout said, taking the dragon's immediate attention. It scooted along the ground as it turned toward Snotlout, waving its short legs as if swimming.

"No, six!" Fishlegs thrust his shield into the air as she shouted, drawing the dragon's attention. The dragon opened its wide mouth and a dangerous glow began behind its tongue. Astrid rolled out quickly away from the blast range.

"Right," Gobber said, just as the Gronkle's nose lifted into the air and the glow intensified.

The dragon spat and the lava hit Fishleg's shield with enough force to knock it from his grasp. Fishlegs was lucky it hadn't had the sense to aim lower. He shouted and dashed away from the dragon's sight. It opened its mouth again and before it could fire at Fishlegs, Astrid kicked up a spare shield and thrust it at the dragon. It spun and hit the dragon's jaw. The dragon swallowed its fire and shook his head.

Gobber nodded, hand on his chin.

 _Yes, that's right_ , Astrid said to herself. _Show them who's not afraid. Show them who's not cursed by witches._

The dragon came at her, but she quickly dodged it. Another lava blast oozed from its mouth, leaving traces of glowing heat down its wide jaw. Snotlout gained its attention and yelped, making it out of the way just in time. A small spatter landed on his arm and he yelped again, higher this time, and used his shield to flick away the lava. A nasty, albeit small, burn had been left behind.

"That's enough out of you," Gobber said as he interrupted. He grabbed the Gronkle like a fish with his hook and stirred it back toward its cage. It gave little fight as Gobber swung it back inside and slammed the doors before it could get back out. The ruckus has earned a new wave of shouts from the other dragons.

The teens came toward the middle of the arena, Fishlegs quivering and Snotlout cradling his burn, as Gobber limped toward them with a large smile. His proud stare lingered on Astrid and her pride swelled. He'd be telling Stoick about this new training, no doubt, and her success. Stoick would in turn tell her father.

Snotlout panted and cried over his arm, much to the humor of the twins. She inhaled and held the mild fatigue she felt inside.

"That's all of that for today," Gobber said. "Tomorrow we'll face another dragon, slowly but surely making our way up to the Monstrous Nightmare." Gobber lowered his tone, much like he did when he told the Viking children ghost stories.

The rest of the training passed much the same, with dummies and fighting and advice. Astrid made sure she topped all the others, flying past them in every way possible. She would be the best. She would prove it to them. She _would_.

X

A week of training with dragons and Astrid saw the result of her efforts in the arena. Every day more Vikings came out to watch the training, booing, laughing, and cheering. Astrid didn't try to find her father in the crowd; she acted as though he were there. By the week's end she was clearly the favorite. Her cheers were the loudest.

"Aye, you've done well in the ring," Harald said that night. His tone had lost its harshness.

"Thank you," Astrid said calmly, as though she didn't expect it. Truthfully, her limbs ached. Exhaustion pounded on her mind and she fought to stay sharp. Her legs threatened to betray her commands.

"I can't believe Gobber thought fighting dragons was a good idea," Ingrid sighed as she plopped dishes into steaming, soapy water. "He's lucky no one's been seriously injured."

"Give it another week," Harald grinned. "Those Gronkles aren't near the worst. These kids need to know what they're up against. It's better than just waiting until those beasts attack and throwing them into the streets."

"I suppose," Ingrid sighed.

"I'm going to bed," Astrid said as she stood. Accepting her father's nod as a goodnight, she pushed her legs to jog up the stairs. Only when her bedroom door had closed behind her did she let her exhaustion show. She slumped and slouched against the door.

"How is the hunt going?" Ingrid asked from downstairs, her voice calm and quiet.

"Not very well," Harald said, barely a whisper through the bedroom door. Astrid turned around and pressed her ear against the door's seam in time to her father say, "Nothing out there. Just damn trees. We'll see a dragon now and then but it scurries off before we can attack."

"They aren't attacking you?" Ingrid asked.

"No," Harald said. "Stoick says it's likely that we're finding them off guard. Those witches aren't telling them what to do so they just run from us."

"What does that mean?" Ingrid asked quickly. "Do you think…" Her voice dropped too low for Astrid to hear.

"I don't know," Harald said. "But it might mean that if we get rid of those witches their _pets_ will go away. Or at least not attack."

"Is that the plan?"

"It is now," Harald said. "But we've searched the woods for a week now and haven't seen a damn thing. No sign that anyone is even out there."

"I'm sure you'll find something. It's a big forest."

"That's the problem," Harald said bitterly. "There's too much space out there for us to look, even if everyone in the village went at once. It's too big. Those witches could slip right through and we wouldn't see them."

Ingrid hummed humorously, "Well, you could always just burn it down and see what's left."

"Don't laugh," Harald said shortly. "Spitelout wants do to just that."

"You can't be serious?"

"Stoick thinks he's mad, of course, and he'd only consider burning it as a last result. He's got more reason that anyone to hate those woods. I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to." Harald's voice dropped. "I know if something happened to you, or to Astrid, I'd want to do the same."

Astrid released a breath she hadn't known she held.

Ingrid said something too low.

"I know," Harald said. "But she's alive, which is more than Stoick can say for his Valka or Hiccup. If we hadn't found her that night…I don't know what I would have done. Speaking of Astrid, isn't her…uh, she due?"

"Yes, any day now," Ingrid said quickly.

Astrid stepped away from the door. No one talked about Valka or Hiccup. She rarely heard their names spoken. Astrid had been too little to understand at the time, barely old enough to remember anything. One day the two of them were just gone. It left a terrible pit in her stomach that wouldn't go away. Of course, that feeling could just be the blood proof her father waited for. A part of her wanted to throw the rags at him for his suspicion, but she knew it would do no good.

She dipped her hands into the water basin. The water was long cold, but she didn't want to ask her mother for warmer. Right now, the cold water sounded more appealing.

Washed and dry with sleep on the brain, Astrid passed by the window. She looked at nothing in particular, however distant movement caught her eye. Her stare snapped to the edge of the forest. Shadows moved, playing just beyond the flickering firelight of Berk. Something, no, _someone_ moved.

Astrid stepped forward, tripping over her discarded boots and falling into the windowsill. That someone stayed at the edge, never stepping into the village, barely visible standing still among the trees. The cloak they wore blended in with the dark trunks. Her heart thumped in her ribcage, hard enough to hurt.

The witch.

Her heart stopped. She stuffed her feet back into her boots and her hand was on the door handle before she stopped. She couldn't go out this way. Her parents were still awake. They would never let her out. No. Astrid turned around and tiptoed to the window. She glanced for onlookers and when she saw none, she climbed down and to the snowy ground.

By the time she got to the forest's edge where the witch had stood, he was gone. A sentry's torchlight approached and she didn't have time to go to the trail. She dashed into the forest. The winter-dead thickets tugs at her leggings and picked at her shirt. A low hanging branch scratched her cheek.

She paused as the sentry's light hesitated. Hiding behind a thick tree, she held her breath, waiting for the light to either find her or move on. Before her, the light illuminated the shadowy forest floor. Roots and brambles waited for unsuspecting feet to grab, clothes to snare and hair to pull. At long last, the light moved on. Astrid let out a low sign.

Slowly she made her way through the forest in the dark.

"Hello?" Astrid whispered, not wanting any stray Berkians to hear her. "Are you there?"

No one answered.

She tricked and caught herself on a tree. Underneath her fingers the bark had been hacked away, marked. Berk's witch hunters, no doubt. They were marking their way. By the pointed wound Astrid guessed it had been made by an axe. She had thrown hers at enough trees to know the mark left behind.

A small _snap_ beside her snapped her attention away from the tree. She spun around, snagging on the small bramble as before, and fell backward into the wounded tree. Standing there in the shadow before her was the witch. The gloom-light hid his eyes in that ghastly mask of his and left them black holes. Like this he could pass as a fireside story monster.

"Hello," Astrid said.

He said nothing, but his shoulders twitched upward ever the slightest. Astrid waited for him to run, to fade into the forest, to do something. Was this the same witch that took a woman and her child?

"I'm sorry for the mess," Astrid said, surprised at the timid tone. A sudden, strange sense of guilt and fear panged her. "I'm sorry for the mess I'm sure they'll make. I think it's been because of me." Astrid swallowed. "My father's protective."

The masked head cocked to the side.

"They renewed the witch hunts," Astrid explained, but she knew as soon as she said it that it wouldn't mean much to him. "That's why they were out here. They were looking for you. He thinks that…you might have done something to me." He moved backward and she reached out to him, not wanting him to go, but immediately drew her hand back. "I don't think you're bad. You helped me, didn't you?"

He nodded.

She hesitated, words stuck in her throat. Now was the time for answers, the truth. "My father things that…while I was here, with you…that you might have done something to me. Cursed me. He locked me in my room until I could prove to him that I wasn't harboring some…witch child."

He shuffled his leather-bound feet and shook his hooded, masked head. Pale fingertips peeked from his long sleeves.

"You didn't do anything like that, did you?" Astrid asked, fearing the answer and desperately waiting for it.

He shook his head vigorously and held up two very human hands in front of him. He stretched his long fingers outward.

"I believe you," Astrid said. She took a step forward, one at a time, until she had closed the space between them. She lifted her own hands and took one of his in hers. His hand was bigger than hers, but just as cold. She ran her fingers along the lines on his pale palms. Calluses hardened his fingertips and freckles dotted the arm that vanished into the sleeve.

She flattened her palm against his. His hands were just like hers.

Astrid's eyes drifted to the eyeholes of the mask. The darkness clouded, but she could just see the green orbs gleam through. Astrid released on of her hands from his and reached for the mask, but his other caught her with graceful speed. She gasped, but he gently folded his long fingers around hers and shook his head.

A light, high-pitched dragon-call echoed through the trees. He jumped and dropped her hands. He took several steps back, effortlessly navigating the brambles, and with one last look at her he vanished into the shadows. Astrid stood there with her hands stretched out in front of her for a long moment. She could still feel his rough skin against hers.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N – I know a male witch is called a warlock but there is something about that word that I can't stand. It's a weird thing…like "moist" … some words I hate. I know this is an AU, but "warlock" gives it an extra flavor that I don't like. It's like too candy-Halloween for me. Does that make sense?

I'm sorry about the long wait for this update. This past month has kept me busy. Luckily, I already unloaded on my journal today so you don't have to hear me whine about it.

Onward!

X

 **Chapter 7: When You're Not Looking**

Astrid snuck back into the village without a hitch. In a twist of luck, the sentries left a sizable gap between them. It was only after she reached her house and hoisted herself up the wall to the window that she thought of what else could have slipped past the sentries. That thought quickly dissolved, however, at the sight of someone else in her room.

"Where were you?" Ingrid asked coldly from her seat on the bed, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. She narrowed her eyes as Astrid brought her legs over the sill.

"Nowhere, I just-" Astrid started to explain, but before she could think of an excuse her mother cut her off.

"You went to the pass, didn't you?" Ingrid whispered angrily. She pointed a shaking finger at Astrid. Her whisper seared through the cold air. "If your father knew, or even _suspected_ , you would both be in trouble."

"Mom, it's not like that, I-"

"Don't give me excuses, Astrid Hofferson," Ingrid spat. She shook her head. "I won't tell your father. But you will tell me why you left. Why go back? Answer me, young lady, now, before I change my mind and turn you over to the council. You're lucky none of them saw you…there would be no excusing yourself from that."

"I needed to get out of the house," Astrid said. She knew it would do no good to lie to her mother now. "I needed to talk to…the witch."

Ingrid snapped, taking a rushed step toward her daughter. Her voice turned to icy venom. "You spoke to him? What did he say?"

"He didn't speak," Astrid said. Her mother's glare settled somewhere in her chest. "I had to know what happened. I asked him if he did anything to me that night and he shook his head."

"Dear Thor, Astrid," Ingrid rubbed her temples.

"Did you know he's got human hands?" Astrid said, half astonished at the memory. She looked down at her own moonlit flesh. She could still feel his rough hand in hers. "I saw them."

Ingrid grumbled under her breath as she paced between the door and the bed. "You are asking for trouble. No wonder the dragons attacked."

"What?" Astrid asked, insulted that her mother would think that.

"Well, what am I supposed to think?" Ingrid turned on her heel and threw her hands out at her daughter. "Thor only knows what's lurking in your stomach…or your blood."

Astrid couldn't find the words to defend herself, not against her own mother. Ingrid had always been the source of sympathy in the house. A safeguard. The cornerstone. To hear such accusations coming from her felt worse than anything her father could shout or claim. Ingrid shook her head and left Astrid alone in her room, more alone than she'd been before.

Astrid sunk onto her bed. Her parents had both turned on her. Stoick didn't trust her. If anyone else knew, she would be cast out, or killed on the spot, or whatever else they would think of in a panic. Her axe rested beside the door, a silent protector. Astrid kept her eyes on it as an uneasy sleep slowly passed over her.

X

The next morning, Astrid gripped her axe tight as she headed downstairs to greet her parents. The blood had come as her stomach had predicted. Her mother's relative distance eased, but Astrid put it from her mind. Harald made little notice, as if she lied, as if it made no difference.

"I've canceled my spring trip," Harald announced at breakfast.

"Why?" Astrid asked. It would be rude to think that she looked forward to him leaving. But she did.

Harald inhaled, eyes focused on the closed window. "I've spent enough time out there. I want to stay home and watch over my family."

The spite in which he spoke stung. Astrid knew, without a doubt, her mother had told him of the night before. She glanced at Ingrid who stood at the stove, stirring absently. Her eyes stared into the hearth fire without blinking.

"That's kind of you," Astrid said through a tense jaw.

Harald met her gaze. "My family is more important. You might have made a pact with those witches, Astrid, even unintentionally. They might try something. I will be here to make sure they don't."

Astrid clenched the words between her teeth and forced them back down her throat. She ate without a word and left for training. She put all her energy into besting the others, which came as an easy feat. The only obstacles were the dragons. After training she refused to go home. She took her axe and went to the woods instead, and trained alone. She returned well after nightfall and ate the few leftovers from dinner, and passed silently into her room.

Days passed like this, with her gone from sunup to sundown, minimalizing contact with her parents. She spent all of her energy in training, in besting the others. The dragons' intimidation still shook the others, and hers, but not as much. While large and mean, they were predictable. The Gronkle was tough, but slow and couldn't turn quick enough to catch her. The Deadly Nadder on the other hand was quick and sharp, sending multiple barbs into Astrid's shield. The Hideous Zippleback was trickier, but not much smarter than the twins.

The Terrible Terror had stumped her, but only for a moment. It held a shocking resemblance to the little yellow monster she had seen that first day on the pass, that little monster who'd been shot down over a loaf of bread. But it didn't matter. Astrid had to be the best. She memorized the dragon book, page by page, and archived Gobber's quick-thrown advice in the ring.

Each evening Astrid spent in the woods. She worked until her muscles ached and whined. She ignored the pain. To build herself up she had to tear herself down. Tree after tree met their demise at the sharp end of her well-used axe, after a satisfying _thunk_.

Astrid watched the handle leave her hand and sink into the bark and yet another wooden enemy. She took a small moment to gather her breath. The sun had since touched the western horizon, leaving the clear sky streaked with pinks and purples. The east had darkened, spotted with the first stars. She'd gone father into the woods that she'd intended. The village lights barely poked through the forest. Behind her, the seemingly endless words dipped into wide shadows.

The hunters had already searched here, and no sign of the witch or his beasts had been found. But he was out there, somewhere. Lurking beyond the hunters' eyes. Astrid took a step toward her axe, but paused. Did she want the witch to be found? Her chest tightened at the idea of him being drug into the village and strung up, or beaten into a bloody mess. It hurt to think about. Astrid gripped her hand around the handle. She didn't want him to be found.

As if conjured at her thoughts, shadows began to roll just beyond her sight. They passed before and behind the trees, too close but too far to see, and among them a familiar mask dotted between. Astrid froze at the sight of the shadows. The mask stepped closer to her, but did not see her at first. Astrid dared not move with those beasts so close. What would happen?

The mask turned, seemingly looking about, but when his gaze settled suddenly on Astrid, she felt the tight hand around her chest drop into her stomach. A shadow lurched behind him and Astrid felt the first pangs of panic. The witch moved; he held up a pale hand in the twilight and the shadow rolled back into the darkness.

Astrid held her breath. What had he just done? He _could_ control the dragons.

The witch took a step toward her and the beasts did not follow. She didn't move, and soon he stood in front of her. He raised a hand and pointed a raged fingernail to her arm. Astrid looked down; scraps crisscrossed her arms. Twigs snagged and scraggly branches liked to touch.

"I'm training," Astrid explained. She yanked her axe out of the tree. Yellowed splinters shot out with it, falling to the ground and leaving a fresh wood-wound. "I want to be the best. Of course, I kind of already am."

The witch's eyes shifted to the axe in her hands, then to the tree.

"It's what we do," Astrid said. "We're training to protect to the village from the dragons."

He looked back at her with a suddenness that made her tighten her fingers on the axe.

She added, "And to fight in general. I want to protect the village as much from the dragons as I do pirates or Outcasts."

He said nothing, only kept looking at her. Those green eyes were wild, but curious and intelligent. He lifted a hand and pointed upward to the sky, where the twilight faded.

"I know it's late," Astrid said, hoping she understood him right. "I couldn't just go home today."

He blinked, titling his head slightly.

Astrid sighed and dropped her shoulders. No one else would listen, but this witch didn't speak. He spoke to no one else. What harm would it be? The words started to fall out and she couldn't stop them. "It's my father. He's driving me crazy with his constant suspicions. I thought my mother would be on my side. But she just…turned on me. I couldn't take it. I don't want to see them anymore if they're going to treat me like some criminal or something."

Astrid let her anger explode. She swung the axe into the tree, sending it deeper than she'd thought herself capable. The witch took several steps back, nearly fumbling over the brambles.

Astrid let go of the axe and reached out to him, pausing her hand in midair. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's mine, I guess, if it's anyone's." Astrid took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm sure it'll all pass. Besides, once I win the training competition, they won't be able to look at me like that anymore."

He titled his head again.

"Oh, we started a competition," Astrid explained as she tried to yank her axe free. "The winner gets to kill their first dragon in front of the entire village."

He made a sound then, a shocked, surprised, and disgusted grunt. Astrid stopped her yanking and stared at him. He'd thrown his arms out and let them crash against his sides. She half-expected his wild, hoarse voice to follow, but nothing came. Those green eyes had narrowed at her in anger.

She closed her hands around the axe, wishing that it would come free. Would he attack her? She didn't want to hurt him, but she wouldn't hesitate to defend herself.

He sighed. His sharp outtake of breath hit the other side of the mask in a muffled gust. He turned, not minding as his cloak snagged on a bush, and vanished into the darkness. Astrid stood for a moment, watching where'd he gone. She had a terrible feeling that she had done something wrong.

X

The morning came with winter's silence. Astrid rolled out of bed and stretched her stiff limbs. She grabbed her axe and headed for the stairs. She'd need to stop by the smithy after training, and hopefully Gobber won't ask too many questions about why her axe had gotten dull so quickly.

Astrid and the others made it to the arena through the light snowfall. This time, Gobber didn't meet them at the gate. No one did. The frigid air had gone silent.

Astrid stopped and extended her arm to keep the others behind. "Do you hear that?"

"No," Snotlout said after a pause.

"Exactly," Astrid whispered, pointing down into the arena.

Fishlegs trembled. "What does that mean?"

Astrid gripped her axe and tiptoed down into the arena. Gobber stood in front of the Monstrous Nightmare's pen, scratching his head. Astrid halted, heart lobbed in her throat. Every pen stood open and empty.

"Gobber? What happened?" Fishlegs squeaked, looking around the arena like the dragons might swoop down at any time.

Gobber turned around and shrugged. "Thor's left foot if I know. I got here this morning and the dragons were gone."

Snotlout dropped his maul, barely missing his foot. "What do you mean they're gone? Aren't those doors supposed to be dragon proof?"

Gobber shook his head darkly. "They are. You all head home, I've got to explain to the chief how five caged dragons vanished when I wasn't looking. Should be fun."

X

Stoick wasn't pleased. At first he stood as flabbergasted as Gobber had, looking into the empty, charred cage with wide, confused eyes. Then his confusion heated into anger.

"How could those beasts escape?" Stoick roared.

"Beats me, chief," Gobber shrugged. "Those iron bars should have prevented them from melting the doors. They didn't have enough room to do much else without hurting themselves."

Rumors and whispers waved through the crowd of onlookers that had followed Stoick to the arena, after hearing that the dragons had vanished. Astrid stood among them, along with her father, who she kept her distance from. Everyone wanted to see for themselves, to listen to what the chief said about it, and discover how those mindless monsters could get out. The arena had always been safe, but not now.

"That's just the thing, Stoick," Gobber said, pointing to the inside of the door he had designed himself. "There's nothing to suggest they broke out. The doors are all working fine. Nothing's bent or burned."

"Then tell me," Stoick said through gritted teeth. "How did they escape on their own?"

Gobber's expression turned dark. "They couldn't have."

Whispered zipped through the crowd, many repeating the same question that Stoick had posed.

"Someone had to undo the locks," Gobber said. "Those dragons didn't go on their own. Someone let them out."

The whispers turned frightful. Astrid didn't join the others as they chattered of the missing dragons. She didn't need to turn over rumors. She knew who'd done it. Those angry green eyes flashed in her mind and a rock fell into her stomach.

"It was the witch," someone in the crowd cried.

The crowd cried along with him, tearing through their worries.

"Enough!" Stoick shouted. The silence died at once. His fiery eyes found Astrid, and she held herself steady. Did he think the same as them? He held up his massive hands. "Regardless of who is at fault, we will scour the woods. Those beasts might be lurking. All capable men will go with me into the woods. Gobber, these cages were too weak. They need to be stronger and heavier."

"Yes, chief!" Gobber said as he turned to the doors, limping over to the nearest one.

Men and woman shouted for blood as they followed Stoick toward the forest. Astrid and the others stayed behind in the arena. The war party vanished through the trees, and Astrid wanted to crawl back into bed that morning and pretend this hadn't happened. Had the witch come in the night to free the dragons? Why? Was it because of what she said?

"Well," Gobber announced once the commotion died down. "I suppose training is postponed. I mean, can't train to fight dragons without any dragons can we?"

"Good, I want to go hunt some witches," Snotlout said, maul in hand.

"Oh, no you don't," Gobber said, grabbing him by the helmet. "You're not old enough to fight a dragon and you're not going into those woods to find their masters."

Snotlout pouted.

"Besides, I need some strong backs to help me fix these doors," Gobber laughed. "Am I supposed to carry all my tools up here by myself? That would take weeks."

Astrid waited until Gobber turned to examine a door before she headed for the forest. She didn't listen to hear if he called after her or if anyone saw. She had to reach the witch before anyone else did.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N – Two updates for this story over break – whoo! Thanks to everyone who's stayed with this story. I appreciate each one of you. I really do. Don't forget to leave me a review and tell me what you think.

This chapter is the twist where we head into one of my favorite AUs. I won't tell you which one, because it's obvious.

X

 **Chapter 8: Catch Me if You Can**

Astrid sped through the woods toward Blood Tree Pass. She wasn't sure what her plan was, but she knew she had to reach him before the hunters did. She could hear the hunters in the distance, growling and shouting, growing fainter with ever step she put between them. Out of breath, she collapsed with the pass in her view.

She scanned the Blood Tree forest, but she saw nothing of a witch or breasts. Hunters roared not far away.

"Where are you?" Astrid begged of the air, half mad that he wouldn't show himself at a time like this and half afraid that he'd been caught. "Stop hiding!"

A twig behind her broke, and she whipped to face whoever or whatever, only to find herself staring into the mask she'd come to know.

"You're okay," Astrid breathed.

He nodded, then pointed toward the arena, toward the hunters' noise.

"Did you set the dragons free?" Astrid asked as she stood. Her heart pounded as if she still ran. "Was it you?"

He nodded.

"They're looking for you," Astrid said. "You should go. Hide somewhere they can't find you."

He looked over his shoulder at the noise, then shrugged. He held out his pale hand toward her. Astrid froze; his fingers were callused and scared. He took another step, moving his open hand closer, and she shook the feeling off. Carefully, unsure of what might happen, she placed her hand into his.

He closed his fingers around hers and pulled her after him, deeper into the forest, where the Blood Trees grew thick and close together, blocking out the sunlight almost completely. He knew where he went and she did not question it. She followed him through the winding trees, in the fake-midnight.

She could not hear the hunters. She only heard their footsteps, his light and agile, hers heavy on the forest floor. At last, he came to a stop and she almost ran into him. He turned around and put a finger to his mask's lips. In the dim light he looked like a nightmare, made of shadows and air, or a Blood Tree that had come to life.

She nodded at his signal for silence. Not that she'd been talking before.

He tiptoed into a small clearing. The gnarled canopy parted and a small amount of speckled sunlight fell through. Astrid hesitated at once, a lump jumping into her throat. The Deadly Nadder from the arena was sleeping soundly in the clearing. Astrid opened her mouth, but he placed a finger over her lips.

His touch startled her, but it was gone as soon as she felt it.

The witch carefully approached the beast, lowering himself to all fours, and making a guttural clicking sound as he neared it. The Nadder stirred and Astrid steeled herself. She could run back through the trees if she needed to. The Nadder turned its head to look at the witch, without malice or surprise. It chirped and nudged him with its nose, playfully, if that word could be used to describe such a thing as a dragon.

The Nadder stood up and the witch held no fright. He rested a hand against the dragon's snout and it chirped again, wiggling its crown of horns.

Astrid would not have believed it unless she had witnessed it. The dragon did not attack him or bite at him. What kind of witchery did this stranger have?

He looked toward her then, holding out his free hand. The dragon's yellow eyes flickered to her and she froze. She'd never been this close to the beast, not without worrying about tail spikes or a fiery death. The witch motioned for her, but Astrid shook her head. He motioned again. Astrid took a cautious step, watching every move the dragon made. She came to stand by the witch, and she felt the dragon's hot breath. She could hear its life, beating, breathing, living.

The witch gently reached for her hand and lifted it to the dragon's snout, just as he had done. She took a step backward, but an arm fastened around her waist. Her heart skipped. The witch held her on one side, the dragon faced her on the other. If this should go wrong, there was no way out.

It won't go wrong, Astrid told herself firmly.

The witch laid her hand against the dragon's nose. The dragons sniffed her, breathing even, gentle. It stretched its broad wings out, flashing yellow and blue in the sunshine. The crown of horns twitched and the dragon nosed Astrid, sniffing her clothes and hair. The spikes that lined its tail were flat, indicating the dragon sensed no threat.

"I don't understand," Astrid said to the beast. "If you're not…you're not the monster I fought before. You're different. You're…I don't know."

The witch's hand on her waist gently squeezed and let go. He moved around to the dragon's back and patted it, and climbed up onto the dragon.

"What are you doing?" Astrid asked, feeling her hearth thump again.

He motioned to her, but no sooner had he moved than a commotion sounded through the forest. The witch slid off the dragon's back and the Nadder tensed.

"The hunters," Astrid said, recognizing the chaotic sounds.

The witch grabbed her arms and pulled her to the side of the clearing as the Nadder pushed off from the ground, elegantly navigating the narrow opening and vanishing into the blue sky.

"Where is it going?" Astrid asked, but he didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed Astrid's arm and yanked her to the other side of the clearing and through the forests, away from the commotion. "Where are we going?"

The commotion sounded like it was coming from all around them. She couldn't see where they ran, only the witch in front of her, who she followed. She'd placed her trust in him, and she couldn't take it back without getting lost in the forest. The forest became rocky, with large jagged boulders jutting up from the ground, hugged by tree roots and dead vines, and she didn't know where they were. They had to be closer to the mountain.

Something happened, Astrid thought. Those were not the shouts of hunting Vikings, but of proud ones. He stopped and she did, too, as two hunting parties came together on either side of them. He dodged into a thick alcove, between two large rocks. They were not in immediate view, but they were not well-hidden.

"Hoark, what is it?" a Viking yelled.

"We caught one!" A hoarse Viking called back, Hoark, Astrid believed.

"What? Which one?"

"A nightmare. Burned Kak, but he'll live."

Just then, a wild cry of a wounded Monstrous Nightmare filled the afternoon air. Astrid felt the witch beside her tense, and she reacted before her thoughts connected. He made to climb out, but she reached around him as he moved, snaking her arms around his narrow middle, snatching him back into the alcove.

"There's nothing you can do," Astrid said into the witch's back. She hugged him tighter, fearful by what might be done to him by a hoard of angry Vikings. "There's nothing you can do without getting yourself killed."

The Vikings stomped away, back through the forest, as Astrid held the witch to her chest. Through the cloak she felt his heart, beating against her cheek, warm and alive, rapidly thumping.

"They would kill you if they saw you," Astrid pleaded with his back, even though he'd stopped moving.

The commotion faded, but Astrid didn't let go of him until it was gone entirely. When she did, he didn't move at first. He stepped out of the alcove and meandered a bit, arms swigging and head rolling on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Astrid said. "There was too many of them."

He shrugged and threw his arms out, a growl on his breath.

"It's the dragon, isn't it?" Astrid asked.

He nodded.

"I wouldn't try to rescue it like that again," Astrid said, and he turned to her, green eyes blazing. Astrid bit back an unpleasant sensation of fear. "Stoick will have ordered guards to the arena. It'll be dangerous."

She didn't know if he understood or not. Did he even speak? He might not understand her. He seemed to, though, and he paced in a defeated stance. He crossed his arms and his eyes narrowed at the trunk of the nearest tree.

"I should be getting back before they know I'm gone," Astrid said. With this latest disaster, who knew what her father would think, or do. She didn't want to think about it.

He grabbed her hand again, and pulled her back through the thick trees. In no time at all they stood a small distance from the Pass.

"Thank you," Astrid said, but he was already making his way back through the trees.

X

Astrid kept to herself, which wasn't hard. The village spun in chaos, of the missing dragons, the newly captured dragon, and all the gossip in-between. Through it all, Astrid fought the nauseous bubble in her stomach. Her thoughts kept returning to the mysterious witch in the Blood Tree forest, and those green eyes.

She had told him about the competition and then he had set the dragons free. That could not be a coincidence. But why?

That next morning, the village was still buzzing. Astrid went with the others to the arena. Guards had been stationed there, several of them, all armed to the teeth. The dragon mumbled in its reinforced cage, growling and scratching. It looked as though half the village had shown up to watch.

Astrid bit back her spiteful laugh; they'd come to see if the dragon went missing. Why were Vikings so nosy? Of course, there wasn't much else to talk about on Berk. Gobber laughed as he came down into the arena's floor.

"Look at these numbers," he pointed toward the crowds on the other side of the caged-roofing. "We don't see these numbers unless it's killing time."

Fishlegs squeaked, "What?"

"What's the matter Fishlegs, you afraid of getting eaten?" Snotlout taunted.

"Yes, I am, and so should you," Fishlegs said sternly.

"Ah, well, might as well make it a good show," Gobber said, hand on the door's lever. The crowds grew quiet as the pushed the lever and lifted the dragon's door.

Astrid gripped her axe and readied herself to dodge. Nightmares could go in any direction, although they typically dove headfirst. Astrid made sure she wasn't in that range. The Monstrous Nightmare burst from its cage in a fiery rage, sending stray embers on its flight to the arena's roof, where it crashed into the metal fence. Vikings on the other side shouted and ran as a bright, liquid flame erupted through the fence.

Gobber laughed as the Vikings clattered.

Astrid kept her eyes on the Nightmare. They were tricky, flighty beasts, and as hotheaded as a lava rock. It rounded on Snotlout, and the crowd gasped. Astrid paid no attention to those watching, distractions earned burns and blood. She wanted neither. The Nightmare lost interest soon, and Astrid luckily won its attention.

Its red eyes turned toward her, narrowed and angry, nothing like those of the Nadder that day before. Astrid gripped her shield and axe, trying to imagine this beast as calm as the other, but it proved hard. Smoke oozed from its nostrils and stray bits of flaming spit lingered between its dagger-like teeth.

The silence in the crowd ended abruptly, with sharp gasps and cried, and it was only when the Monstrous Nightmare averted its eyes did Astrid look. Above the forest, a small dot appeared, and it grew greater with every moment. Massive wings flapped in a rapid motion and it came closer at a frightening rate.

No one had the time to react. A blue fireball crashed into the iron fence faster than Astrid could blink, and the arena filled with thick smoke. She waved it away from her face and backed up until her back hit the stone wall. Heavy flapping of leathery wings departed the smoke, thinning it out enough to see.

A black beasts landed on the arena's floor amid the smoking debris. A dark-clad rider climbed from its back and extended a hand toward the jittery Nightmare. Astrid held her breath; she had seen that trick the day before. It was the witch, no doubt, who had exchanged his wooden mask for one of leather. Under his supervision, the Nightmare settled. The witch pointed a gangly arm toward the hole he'd made in the fence, and the Nightmare flew toward it, swishing the lingering smoke.

The witch had no sooner climbed back onto the black dragon than the smoke cleared enough for onlookers to see. He and the dragon rose into the air as it did, framing them with an otherworldly, sunlit halo. Gasp and screams came from the arena's sides, and a fearful silence.

Gobber coughed his way through the cloud. At the sight of the dragon he froze. The color drained from his face. He gasped, "A Night Fury?"

Astrid whipped her head to look at the dark dragon again. So that is a Night Fury? The name fit. All dark scales and a vicious snarl, poised to strike. She clutched her axe. Why didn't he fly away while he could?

"What is this?" Stoick roared above the whispering, uneasy crowd. He gestured toward the dragon rider. "What witchery is this?"

Astrid swallowed hard. The witch did not speak. He lifted a wooden staff toward Stoick, and the Night Fury growled. Eyes shifted between Stoick and the rider. Astrid held her breath. Few threatened Stoick the Vast and lived. Before any more words could be spoken, the Night Fury and his rider whooshed back into the air, and vanished above the clouds.

Astrid hugged her axe. Had he wanted her to ride that Nadder with him? A Night Fury. How in Thor's name did he find a Night Fury? Maybe he did have a power over the dragons. There was no other explanation for such a thing. Relief and terror fought in her gut as the Vikings exploded into outrage.

"What do we do, Stoick?"

"This is an act of war!"

"It was a witch!"

"What can we do?"

"We're not safe!"

"They'll be attacking the village next!"

"They're evil, I say!"

"Enough!" Stoick's roar silenced the panic. "Go back to the village. Prepare for battle in case they return. The council will meet me in the Great Hall. Immediately."

Astrid wanted to get away from the crowd, to seek out the witch, but Gobber kept his students in check until they reached the village. From there, he ordered them home until the craze blew over.

Astrid did not eagerly await what would lie on the other side of her front door. She paused in front of it, inhaling, and as she reached for the handle it swung open from within. Harald stood in the doorway, looking none too happy.

"There you are," he said. He pulled her inside. "There's dragons about, and some dragon rider. Stay inside."

The door closed.

"What happened today?" Ingrid asked. She looked shaken. A stew boiled over the hearth with the leftover mutton. "We only heard a small bit about a witch riding a dragon. Your father's been called to the Great Hall about it."

"I don't know," Astrid shook her head. She didn't really know, not other than what anyone else knew, but she relayed the events to her mother as best she could from an onlooker's perspective.

Ingrid stood with her hands clutched around a wooden spoon. "He recused the dragon, did he?"

"I suppose," Astrid shrugged.

"Well," Ingrid heaved a sigh. "That's a new one. It's madness, is what it is. A man on a dragon. Odin only knows what those men will say about it. Let's just hope your name stays out of it all."

Astrid's stomach clenched. Her father might think the worst, but she knew he would not betray her, his family, to the council.

X

"What should we do about it?" Hoark cried. He fisted his hands in his hair.

"We can't sit by and do nothing," Spitelout said with his arms crossed. "This is an outrage, Stoick. We've not choice but to hunt the monster and his pet down. He's a menace."

"He's the one controlling those dragons!"

"He's setting them to steal from us!"

"It's his fault our friends have died!"

"They've never come that close before. Something's changed."

"That's enough," Stoick said as he stood. The council around him silenced. "I know what this dragon rider is not a good sign. But we have searched that forest for weeks and found nothing but a few scales and scat. If that rider lives in the forest, he'll have the advantage. We can't go hunting him down."

"The we wait for him to come to us and slaughter out children while we sleep?" Spitelout spat. A few others cheered him on, agreeing with fists on the table.

"Not at all," Stoick said sternly. "He won't catch us of guard. We will double the lookouts and sentries, on all sides of the village at all hours. We will still search the forest, but our main objective is to keep the village safe."

"And then what?" Spitelout taunted.

"We'll find the nest. Take it out." Stoick hammered his fist on the table, ending the argument. No witch would harm his village. Not with him still breathing.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N – Here's a chapter entirely from Hiccup's POV! I know we all wanted one. There's not much dialogue, because there's no one for him to really talk to, besides himself and Toothless…so…here you go!

Oh, by the way, have I told you all how awesome you are? No?! Well, you all rock. Seriously.

 **X**

 **Chapter 9: Whatever Comes**

He landed after another long twilight flight, and wanted nothing more than to return to the starry sky on the other side of the clouds. But the sun warmed the eastern sky, brushing it purple and gold. His time was up. Toothless warbled; he wanted to fly more, too. He knew the risk, though, and didn't complain any more than that. Instead he meandered through the forest, toward home, silent among the bare and dead Blood Trees.

Hiccup missed the autumn. He loved to watch the bright Blood leaves twirl in the wind.

"Hiccup. You've spent the entire night out there again?" His mother met them at the hidden entrance, arms crossed. She snapped, "The whole village is in an uproar over your little stunt. You shouldn't be flying. Someone will shoot you both out of the sky."

Toothless said nothing. He knew better than to retort.

Hiccup also knew better. "Nothing happened. No one saw us."

"You're sure about that?" she asked flatly.

"Yes. We fly too high and it's too dark to see Toothless," Hiccup explained, gesturing to the calm Night Fury, whose skin matched that of a dark, moonless night. The dragon held no interest in the conversation. He had found entertainment in a half-rotten log. Hiccup sighed. Sometimes he wished he could be a dragon, too. Careless. Happy. Free.

"Hunters came close to the house last night," she warned. "They won't find it, but they are getting bold."

"If they won't find it, why are you worried about them?" he asked with a grin, but it vanished at the sight of her unamused glare.

"One of them might get lucky. You might do something stupid." She frowned. The lines on her face became more prominent. "You need to stop taking these risks. It's only been three days."

He sighed loudly, interrupting her.

"Son, this is serious. You exposed yourself to the village. They won't rest until they've hunted you down," she said in a deadly whisper. Her face softened. "You need to be more careful, Hiccup. You're the only son I've got. I don't want to lose you."

"I'll be more careful," he said automatically.

She shook her head. Long brown braids swished behind her. By her feet, a little Terrible Terror sat. It yawned, but then the air changed. Hiccup did not feel it. He saw it. The Terrible Terror stood, growling and clawing at the ground, needle-teeth barred and back arched, big eyes narrowed.

"Not again," Hiccup said quickly, turning to Toothless. He had lowered himself to the ground, just like the Terror, and pulled his wings in tight against his body. Hiccup approached himself carefully, hands outstretched and ready to jump out of the way.

No sooner had the sensation came, then it departed. The Terror shook and yawned. Toothless stretched and nuzzled into the dirt where he'd been digging.

"What was that?" Hiccup asked. "Those usually last longer."

His mother shook her head. She patted the Terror, and it cooed back at her. "The alpha is growing restless."

"What does that mean?" Hiccup asked.

She didn't answer.

"The dragons are already attacking more," he reminded her, depressing himself by thinking about it, about the casualties, about the injured dragons that she healed. "There's got to be something we can do about it. I mean, can't we go talk to the alpha or something?"

She laughed, a bright and vibrant sound that he rarely heard.

"There's no talking to the Alpha, especially one as stubborn as ours." She turned back toward the entrance to their cavern abode and ducked inside. She echoed back up, "Breakfast will be ready soon. Get some sleep or get to work."

He sighed again, louder this time. Guess their talk was over. Why was it always this or that? Why wasn't there ever a choice?

Hiccup took off into the woods, storming through the brambles, with Toothless a short way behind. His riding leathers made maneuvering through the forest much easier than the cloak his mother insisted he wear. She'd surely scold him about wearing the leather, too. She always had something to scold him about. She'd been horribly irritable ever since he'd saved that Monstrous Nightmare.

Of course, she was angry about it. What was he supposed to do? Stand back and hide in the woods while that poor dragon got slaughtered for sport? Absolutely not.

He walked for a while. Toothless barely made a sound, but Hiccup knew he followed. Sometimes he thought, for fun mostly, that Night Furies just might be made partially of shadows.

Gradually, the sun lit the tops of the Blood Trees and speared the dead ends with gold. A small bird fluttered onto a twisted branch. Its nimble feet found easy purchase. It whistled, and then bounced back into the air. Among the brief tone, Hiccup thought he heard something whispered behind it. Toothless perked, head titled, eyes focused on something unseen. Hiccup placed a hand on the dragon's head and strained to see what he saw.

Hunters? Hiccup readied to jump on Toothless' back. He took a step back when Toothless exhaled. No threat. Hiccup eased, but the sound touched his ears again. Just too far away to hear. He strained to see through the thick trees. Again, but to soft.

His heart leapt. "Is it her?"

Toothless grumbled. He wasn't a fan of Astrid, but he didn't openly dislike her. Whenever she appeared, he slunk off and out of view, sinking down into the forest floor, pouting. Hiccup patted Toothless and left him to his pouts. She never spoke very loudly, she couldn't with the hunters present. That often left him worried that he'd missed her.

"Hello?" Astrid's voice drifted through the trees.

He caught a glimpse of bright yellow. Hair. She carried something, hugged it to her chest. Hiccup tiptoed closer. She walked forward, looking ahead of her. In her arms she carried a small basket. Her wide, blue eyes scanned the forest. He could stand and stare at her for a while, but he wanted to hear her speak. Reaching out with his leather-covered knuckles, he knocked on a tree trunk.

Astrid jumped and spun. A small gasp escaped her lips. Those eyes looked him up and down, her startled confusion didn't wane. Blinking, he glanced down at his riding leathers. He'd always worn the cloak. To ease her discomfort, he shrugged.

Her surprise eased into that bright smile, but didn't fade. "There you are. I was beginning to think this was too early for you."

No, he wanted to say, but didn't. He'd held his promise to his mother never to speak to the Vikings. He shook his head instead.

Astrid smiled again, wider this time, and titled her head down slightly as she laughed. She held out the small basket. "I brought breakfast. It's not much, just a few biscuits, but my mother wouldn't let me leave without it. Want to join me?"

Yes, he nodded. He knew the perfect place.

He motioned for her to follow and held out his hand. Cautiously, she took it, and her skin eased into his exposed palm. His heart skipped. Aside from his mother, she was the only other human he'd touched. Something about felt different. He knew it wasn't all humans that felt this way. It was her. Astrid was special.

He led her to one of his favorite spots in the forest. It was a simple clearing, but the Blood Trees grew so thick that they mimicked walls. The stone of the mountain made up a smooth ground, and a small hole in the canopy glimpsed the blue sky.

"Oh," Astrid said as she ducked into the clearing after him.

Do you like it? He wanted to ask, but didn't. He watched Astrid walk the clearing's edge, examining.

"This is where you showed me the Nadder," Astrid said, eyes on the spot where the dragon had been.

He nodded. He'd been so close to getting her on a dragon. He couldn't help but wonder, what if he had?

Hiccup sat down on the stone, and she followed his example. She opened the basket and took out two biscuits, on for herself and one for him. She spoke while she ate, or more like picked at her food. Hiccup hadn't had much in the way of baked food. He tore a piece of the biscuit off and stuffed it underneath his mask when Astrid wasn't looking. He'd also kept that promise. He'd not shown his face.

The biscuit melted in his mouth, warm butter and salt. He tore off a bigger piece and ate the entire biscuit before Astrid had eaten half of hers. She caught him, though, and smiled. "Don't eat much out here?"

He shrugged. Fish, wild boar, and roots.

Astrid smiled down at her hands. She handed him her half-eaten biscuit and he eagerly took it. "You know, I was unsure at first whether or not it was really you on that dragon. But it couldn't have been anyone else."

Hiccup swallowed, savoring the flavor as it faded.

"If you would have worn your cloak, I would have known instantly."

He wanted to tell her about how he didn't feel like changing, or how he liked his flight suit better than that baggy cloak. But he didn't. He looked down at his leathers and shrugged.

"It's okay," Astrid said, a light pink on her cheeks. "It looks good on you."

He blushed, thankful for the mask.

"It's hard to think that you're the same person that they talk about," Astrid said, her eyes on him, unfocused. She chuckled, but it lacked the heart that warmed her laughter. "My dad calls you the 'Dragon Master.' He's determined that you're some kind of demon-monster-man with magic powers to control the dragons."

He'd heard those rumors, too, from eavesdropped conversations of hunters, afraid of finding the dragon-demon and wishing someone else would. They would shift their eyes and hold their weapons with white knuckles. Their knees would slack.

"Did Nak and Hoark really see you?" Astrid asked, leaning toward him, brows furled.

Hiccup chuckled, and she raised a brow. He wanted to tell her how he'd risk his own hide and his mother's wrath by jumping out at two hunters the day before. He'd never heard a grown man scream so loud, or high, or seen a human run so fast. He'd laughed about it until he told his mother.

"Everyone is afraid of you," Astrid said, bringing him out of his mind. "But…I'm not."

Something inside his chest warmed. It was a sensation he'd come to associate with Astrid. She made him feel it more and more, like he might float away and never come down.

Her expression softened. Those blue eyes met his and she said, "Should I be?"

No. He shook his head. He tentatively reached out to her. She didn't move or flinch, but met his hand halfway. Her warm fingers laced with his, and he was sure if she didn't have a hold on him he'd be floating away.

"That's good," Astrid said. She smiled. Feathers flickered against his ribs. "I don't want to be."

X

With the last wisps of twilight, Hiccup snuck toward the village. He mustn't be seen, he told himself, while watching for hunters' traps and alert sentries. They had multiplied these past few weeks. Hiccup doubted anything would happen to him with Toothless so close, but it didn't stop him from being careful. He didn't want anything to happen to either of them.

Little lights poked through the trees. The village. Toothless stopped, chirped, and held his head down.

"It's alright, bud," Hiccup whispered. "Stay here, watch out for hunters. I'll be back in a minute. Okay?"

Toothless shook his head mournfully. Hiccup patted the dragon on the nose and continued toward the village.

He knew which house was hers. He'd followed her home a few times, only to turn around after she closed the door. Did she know? He wanted to see her, to hear her, but how would he get to her? Too many sentries patrolled the village, looking for him. Their watching torchlight never faded. And even if he slipped past them, there was the house itself. How would he get inside? which window led to her? He doubted her parents would be happy to see him. From what she said about her father, Hiccup would be happy never meeting him.

A sentry's light broke his thoughts. Hiccup ducked behind the closest tree as the formidable Viking passed, all scowl and beard. Small, wide eyes searched from side to side, underneath heavy eyebrows. The man walked on. The light from his torch hadn't vanished before another appeared, and the light of another rounded the corner of two houses. They left no shadows between them for him to hide in.

Defeated, Hiccup took a retreating step back into the forest. Tonight wouldn't do. The path to her held too many obstacles. She would have to come to him, whenever that might be. It had already been three days since he'd seen her last. When would the next day come? Tomorrow? A week? He didn't want to wait that long.

With each step, the light from the village grew fainter, until the darkness surrounded him. It didn't frighten him. He had grown up in it, learned to live with it, to use it. Toothless waited where Hiccup had left him, patiently waiting, eager to see him again. He nudged Hiccup's hand, and left a long string of warm saliva behind.

"Ew," Hiccup groaned. He wiped the spit on a tree. "I'm glad to see you, too."

Toothless smiled into his hand, but not a moment after, Hiccup felt the change in the air. Tension seized, gripped, and held on.

"Toothless?" Hiccup asked, removing his hand from the dragon's proximity.

Toothless flattened and arched. His dragon-grin vanished and a snarl replaced it. Poised close to the ground, ready to attack, wings folded, teeth barred, eyes narrowed and feral. Hiccup froze. All around him the forest buzzed with impatiently dragons, urged by the unseen forces of nature.

"Toothless," Hiccup said, cooing the dragon with quick hand signals his mother had taught him. Never touch an angry dragon, unless you wanted to lose a few fingers or a hand. Hiccup bit back those words. "Hey, Bud, look at me. At me."

Hiccup stepped in front of Toothless, slowly, to avoid a sudden reaction. He opened his hands, non-threatening stance, and took even breaths. The forest jittered and growled, a multitude of dragons edging their way toward the village. Hiccup kept his interior calm. It took several long moments, but Toothless' growl lessened and gradually his tension deflated. He shook his head and whined. Kind eyes looked up at Hiccup, as if nothing had happened, and he nosed his exposed hand.

"There you are," Hiccup said as he stroked Toothless' head. "You had me worried there. I thought the alpha took you, too."

It hadn't yet, and Hiccup wanted to keep it that way.

Toothless nudged him closer, circling his body around Hiccup's. His snarl returned, but not feral this time. Protective. Dragons clipped the tops of the bare trees, wings extended and claws open. They howled and cried, under the forced allegiance of the hidden alpha, toward the village to feed their master.

The dragons decreased and Toothless pushed Hiccup in the direction of home.

"No, Toothless," Hiccup said firmly. He balled his fist. "I have to do something."

Toothless gave an unenthused growl.

"Come on," Hiccup said, jumping onto the dragon's back. He secured his mask.

Toothless reluctantly spread his massive black wings and took off toward the sky. With his speed, it didn't take long to join the hoard. Fires already lit the evening sky, turning the blue sky orange and gray, melting icicles and snow. Dragons rampaged through the smoke, fire dripping from jaws and teeth snagging sheep, chickens, yaks, and anything else they could find. Vikings chased them, weapons in hand and raised, poised to kill.

Where to start?

A group of Nadders cornered several sheep in a paddock. Vikings raced toward the fence with axes and hammers held high.

There.

Toothless fired at the ground between the Nadder and the Vikings, starling the humans and dragons. The Vikings hesitated, looking around bewildered and confused, whereas the dragons took off to the sky with only a single sheep between them.

Hiccup sighed; hot breath bounced off the inside of his mask. They flew over the confused Vikings, and several fingers pointed to the sky. Hiccup glanced back to see them gawking, hammers frozen in midair. Pride swelled in his chest. Being visible felt good.

Hiccup and Toothless flew back and forth over the village, rescuing dragons and preventing disaster to both dragon and human, as much as he could. He blew apart the catapults, only having to watch it bring down one dragon. Its terrible cry echoed as the boulder brought it to the ground. Crossbows were another matter. Hiccup could dodge those he saw coming, but several arrows whizzed by with less than a hair between it and him. They couldn't stop moving.

Before tonight, Hiccup had only heard the terror coming from the village. He had never seen it. Between the shrieking dragons, wailing Vikings, and flames, it was chaos. Hiccup grit his teeth. He didn't have time to quiver in surprise. There were lives to save.

Toothless warbled impatiently, a warning. An angry Monstrous Nightmare, flanked by arrows, landed haphazardly on a Viking house. An arrow landed in its shoulder and it let out a horrible cry. Panic rose in Hiccup's chest. The Nightmare burst into bright flames that ravaged through the rooftop, licking down the house's walls. Cries set out among the Vikings. A man dropped his hammer and without hesitation threw himself into the house.

The Nightmare's weight made the roof creak and crack, sending embers into the air. Toothless fired. The blast exploded in midair above the dragon, disorienting it, and it rose into the air. The root collapsed; embers raced into the air. The man burst out of the house, but he wasn't alone. He pulled a woman behind him, and a familiar face followed. Astrid just jumped through the burning doorway as the house caved in on itself.

Hiccup's chest caved in. He should have recognized it sooner. It had been her house.

Toothless gave a quick sideways lunge, jerking Hiccup to the side. A flaming arrow barely missed Hiccup's head, and instead went flying into the smoke. Down below, angry Vikings gathered, pointing and shouting, crossbows lined and aimed upwards, at _him_.

Hiccup barely at time to react before the burning arrows flew into the air. Toothless made a dangerous free-fall, avoiding most of them, except one that grazed Hiccup's shoulder. He groaned, clasping a hand over his arm. Toothless furiously flapped, rocketing them into the clouds. Hiccup pulled his hand away. No wound, only a scorch on his leather.

Toothless warbled, looking up at his rider.

"That was close," Hiccup sighed. "Why are they shooting at us?"

Toothless whined, shaking his head at his rider.

He had only been helping them not die. Maybe his mother had been right about them. Hiccup shook his head. He refused to give in like that.

He urged Toothless back down into the chaos. Vikings rushed toward a door set into the mountain, the Great Hall he assumed, from what Astrid had told him. He found her on the stairs, yellow hair gleaming in the firelight, blue eyes reflecting a bright sky regardless of the daytime. Her eyes, along with others around her, found him in the sky.

Astrid shook her head, eyes on him, and Hiccup tensed. He knew that look, even if she denied the emotion. Fear. She feared him?

The man that had recused her from the burning house pointed up at him, angry words on his lips, but Hiccup couldn't hear them. The man glared; his eye matched Astrid's.

The man yanked Astrid away, toward the Great Hall. An arrow whizzed by Toothless and brought Hiccup's attention back. The attack. Dragons attacked Vikings. Vikings attacked dragons. The end felt too far to be real, but Hiccup pursued, keeping the causalities to a minimum. As the dragons waned and vanished back into the forest with whatever profit they had, Toothless joined them.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N – Thanks for being awesome, really. I'm really happy that you all are enjoying this story as much as you are. (Virtual thumbs-up)

X

Chapter 10: Window

Astrid held the warm cup in both hands, watching the steam rising into the air. Firelight flickered, dancing wildly every time the doors to the Great Hall opened. Someone had laid another blanket around her shoulders. Who, she wasn't entirely sure. She stopped paying attention some time ago.

"Outrageous," Harald muttered, pacing back and forth. Ingrid had given up trying to speak to him, letting him walk and grumble.

The doors opened, and Harald paused, looking expectantly toward whoever came in.

"Well?" Harald asked.

"Stoick thinks the worst is over," Hoark said. He pointed behind him with his sword. "The dragons have retreated to the forest."

"Any sign of him?"

"None, he's gone with the beasts."

Astrid's chest ached. She couldn't bring herself to drink the tea. She set it on the floor by her feet and buried her head in her arms.

"Harald, is your family alright?" Stoick called out.

"Yes," Harald answered. "We're fine."

Astrid bit her tongue. She knew that tone.

"Good," Stoick said, coming closer, heavy footsteps on the stone.

"Stoick," Harald said lowly. "You saw what happened. That beast singled us out."

"Yes, I did," Stoick said, his tone a low roar, a warning.

"That…dragon-demon of a monster set it on us," Harald whispered, a deathly twist in his accusation.

No, Astrid wanted to argue. He wouldn't have…he couldn't have. Not him. But she kept her head in her arms. She knew what face Stoick would have, the angry suspicious he'd look at her with. It was the same her father had used all night, like it was her fault.

"You think that dragon attacked us because of her?" Ingrid said so small that Astrid barely heard her.

The silence that followed confirmed the answer. They did.

Astrid gripped the blanket. He said she didn't have to be afraid of him. He said so. He said. Tears welled behind her eyes and she forced them back. Even with her face hidden, she wouldn't cry. She felt like it, but she wouldn't.

Villagers came into the Great Hall, weary, worn, and a little singed, all whispering and looking their way. The fire might have gone out, but the village still buzzed.

"Did you see him?"

"What was he?"

"What does this mean?"

"He rode a Night Fury!"

"…the offspring of lightning and death…"

"What does that make him?"

"Inhuman, I say, a monster worse than the dragons, worse than a Night Fury."

Astrid wanted to shout at them, call them liars and fools. He wouldn't have…he isn't a monster.

She never saw his face. Maybe he was a monster underneath it. Maybe that's why he hides his face. But…those eyes. His hands. It didn't seem possible. She didn't want it to be possible. But she had seen him riding that dragon, too. It had been him. No mistake.

"He set that dragon on Hofferson's."

"What do you think that means?"

"Did he want to kill them?"

"Harald was big for the witch hunt."

"How would the witch know that?"

"They can hear us?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. He can ride a dragon, a Night Fury of all, there's no end to the devil he can do."

"Maybe we should leave Berk. Find somewhere less horrible to live."

"Absolutely not. This is our home. We stay. We fight. We either get to keep it, or we die defending it."

Astrid stayed where she was until two massive feet stood in front of her. She looked up to see Stoick, weary face reflecting the rough day, dark circles and singed bits of beard. He scooted a chair up and sat down across from her.

"What a day you've had, lass."

"Yeah," Astrid nodded. "Stoick, I didn't-"

"I know you didn't mean for anything like this to happen," Stoick interrupted, his tone soft and exhausted. "But it has, and there's nothing we can do about it now. That…man set a dragon on your house, he fought against us. He is an enemy of Berk. He must be stopped."

Astrid bit her lip, then let it go. Not in front of the chief.

"I know you have had a rough day, and tonight won't be much better. But this…dragon master has changed the stakes. Tell me, lass, what do you know about him?" Stoick leaned forward, hands on his knees, fingers laced together.

"I-I don't know anything other than he lives in the woods," Astrid said quietly.

"Where?"

"I don't know,"

"You've met him."

"He finds me."

Stoick sighed, eyes unblinking. He stood up. "Astrid, I can only ask that you stay away from the woods until things calm down. It's too dangerous. If this is the result of your gallivanting…fraternizing with that demon-man, I won't know what to do with you. If the village should hear rumors of it, they'll have you burned at the stake faster than that Night Fury could fly."

Astrid was not immune to his icy stare, or the frigid venom in his tone. She kept still until he walked away, and again buried her head in her knees, letting the sobs fall into the wool.

X

The frame of the house went up slowly. Astrid stood back as Vikings lifted a new roof, fitting a new floor, and carved new stairs. A loss of a house had happened before in Berk, many times, but this felt different. Astrid had swept the ashes herself, the powdered remains of her home, and watched them vanished.

A week and a half is how long it took for a new house to replace the old one. The door looked the same, only newer. The stairs lacked the notch she made one night while swinging her axe. The lines her mother had made beside her bedroom door marking the absent days of her father were gone, replaced by a smooth wooden board. Her new bed didn't fit her right and the blanket was stiff. The beam above her bed held no knot, only fresh wood.

It smelled like sawdust and ash, not like her mother's cooking. Astrid rolled onto her side, but sleep felt as far away on this side as it did on the other. She closed her eyes and tried to find comfort in her new pillow. This new house creaked differently. She gave little thought to the gentle wooden creaks until she felt something's weight on the bed.

She snapped into a sitting position, ready to attack, but her breath left her throat and gave her heart a moment of silence. He sat on the side of the bed in his dark leathers and mask, hands up and exposed.

"What are you doing here?" Astrid asked quietly.

He gestured to the house.

"Yes, it burnt down. You were there."

He pointed to her.

"I'm fine," Astrid shrugged.

He tilted his head. Behind that mask those green eyes worried. They were not the eyes of a vengeful monster.

"It's just…why?" Astrid pleaded.

He shrugged, confused.

"Did you…tell the dragon to do that?"

He shook his head, eyes wide. He pointed to himself, and them reached out to touch her arm. Calloused fingers gentle rubbed a small bruise.

"I was too busy worrying about getting out of the house that I tripped over the stairs. I'll be okay."

He didn't let go of her arm.

"You didn't make the dragons attack?" Astrid asked.

He shook his head. He blinked, frustration flickered.

"This would be easier if you would talk to me," Astrid said, but he shook his head, looking down to the floor. "If someone catches you up here, we are both in trouble."

He looked to her, wide-eyed.

"Stoick thinks that you set the dragon on my house on purpose, because of me," she told him. A fist clutched his stomach. "He thinks that it's my fault the dragons are attacking more. Because I went down the Pass that day and saw you, that I keep seeing you."

His hand squeezed her arm. His eyes pleaded.

"I don't think…I don't think that's true."

He shook his head.

"But I don't understand," Astrid said, trying to keep the feverish feeling down where it belonged, but the turbulent emotions rocketed upward. Tears pushed against her eyes. She made to wipe them away, but his hand beat her to it. His thumb ran along her eyelid, smearing the tear into her skin. "Why? My father hates me. Mom doesn't trust me. Stoick thinks I'm conspiring with you and if the village finds out they'll kill me."

She put a hand to her mouth to silence the sobs. Two arms stretched around her and she fell into his loose embrace. Underneath that armor, his heart beat faster. She pressed her head against it, feeling the beat against her cheek. He smelled of sweat and the forest, like fallen leaves, mud, and smoke.

"Astrid?" Ingrid's soft voice called from the hall.

Astrid shot up, out of his embrace, and looked toward the door. Footsteps sounded outside her door. She looked to him, but he was already off the bed. He didn't have to make it to the window, and as the door handle squeaked, he dove underneath the bed with such eerie silence and fluidity that Astrid gapped after him.

"Astrid?" Ingrid asked as she came inside. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Astrid said, putting a hand to her cheek, wiping a ghost of a tear, praying that her mother couldn't see the anomalous shadow under the bed. "I'm just having trouble sleeping."

"You and I both," Ingrid tried to smile. She came inside and sat down on the bed, opposite from where he had sat only moments ago. Ingrid reached and pushed a loose strand of hair from her daughter's face. "Things will get better."

"Everyone blames me," Astrid said. She rubbed her face. "Mom, do you think it's my fault?"

Ingrid didn't answer immediately. "I don't know, Astrid. It's impossible to tell. Just…please baby, stay out of the woods. Stoick won't want to convict you, but he will if it means keeping the village safe."

"You wouldn't let him do that," Astrid asked, her voice a crack in her throat.

"He is the chief," Ingrid said lowly. "If he commands it, there is little to nothing that I or your father could do about it."

"Mom," Astrid began to plead, but Ingrid put a hand up. "Best not to worry about it. if you stay away from the Pass like you should, you won't have a problem. Is that clear?"

Astrid chewed on her lip.

"Astrid?"

"Yes, Mom," Astrid nodded. Ingrid patted her knee, kissed her temple, and said a quick goodnight as she left. Her footsteps hesitated on the other side of the door, and then quietly descended the stairs. The door of their bedroom opened and closed, and soft murmurs passed between her parents.

He clawed out from under the bed with the same silence, like a living shadow.

"See?" Astrid said as quietly as she could. "They might have heard you."

He pointed at her, and gentle tapped his finger against her lips. The rough fingertip sent a chill to the back of her throat.

"Fine, they heard me," Astrid said. She looked toward the window, his only exit, and sighed. "It's not that I don't want you to stay, but it's too risky. I'll see you later, okay?"

Woefully, he nodded and stood up. His footsteps barely made a sound as he walked back to the window. The moonlight streamed inside, shone off his leather, and reflected in his eyes as tiny sparks. He waited there for a moment, watching, before slipping out and vanishing into the darkness. Astrid tiptoed to the window to see him, but he had gone. Sentries patrolled none the wiser.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N – I was going to warn you about the time skip in the last update, but I forgot, then I uploaded it, and decided that it could wait until now, when it's important. And – you all are awesome. EVERY ONE.

Also, if you're wondering why I'm updating this one sooner than my other stories, Prince Hiccup for example, it's because I had a brain explosion and wrote like five chapters of this story in one day, and I'm not that far ahead on Prince.

Also (2), I'm working hard on getting my novel finished. I set the deadline for March 4 and aim to be uploading it by then, on amazon. I know that self-publishing has a negative rep, but I've spent a long time working on my novel, gone through so many drafts that I lost count, several beta readers, and after getting several dozen rejection letters from agents, who said "it's good, but not what I'm looking for" I decided to go the indie route.

But enough of me – let's go!

 **Disclaimer – there's a time skip.**

X

 **xxxx Three Years Later xxxx**

 **Chapter 11: The Next Adventure**

In her dream, he was there. He spoke without a voice, without words, but she understood him. He understood her. He held her closer, but she always felt too far away.

Astrid stirred; the bright morning light leaked through her closed bedroom window and ran in a golden line down the center of the room. She stretched her arms above her head, images of her dream floating behind her eyes. She'd dreamed about him again.

It was settled. She would see him that morning. She couldn't wait any longer. She hadn't seen him in nearly two weeks.

Astrid pulled her feet out from under the wool blankets. She's slept in her boots that night to ward off the lingering chill. She added another layer to her torso before heading downstairs. At the sound of hasty whispering, she stopped, foot hesitating on the middle stair. Before she could listen, it halted.

Ingrid and Harald stood by the table, with _looks_ on their faces. Astrid knew that look. They'd been talking about her, and didn't want her to hear it. She did what she always did, ignored it.

"Something smells good," Astrid said, eyeing the pot. Fish stew? She wasn't sure. It didn't matter what it was. Her mother didn't make bad food. Astrid filled a bowl and set down at the table. Her parents still stood there, eyes on her. Astrid ate a spoonful, looking between them, and asked slowly, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Ingrid said too fast. "Everything is fine."

Astrid waited for the real answer, but Ingrid turned her attention back to the pot.

"Astrid," Harald said, taking a seat at the table. "You know that I planned to leave come spring."

"Yes." Astrid hadn't forgotten. Even though her father's fearful suspicious had lessened with time, she didn't put it passed him to have a relapse.

"Well," Harald said with a big breath. "I've decided to cancel."

"What?" Astrid asked. "Why?"

Harald and Ingrid looked at one other for a prolonged moment. Harald cleared his throat. "It's not that I don't crave another adventure, but I'm not the young man I used to be. I'm not sure if my body is up to it. I love adventure, but I love my family more. My daughter's grown into a young woman right in front of me. My wife has grown wrinkles."

Ingrid blushed and looked down at the pot, stirring absently.

"We'll still be here when you get back," Astrid said.

"I know," Harald nodded. "But I want to stay here. I've seen the world. I've stated my wanderlust. Now it's time to settle."

Astrid ate the rest of her breakfast while her parents reminisced about younger days, early in their relationship, when Harald left for weeks at a time. It was when they began to talk of his homecoming that Astrid scooted out the door before she heard something she'd rather not. She knew her parents had sex; she existed. But she didn't need to hear the details.

Astrid trudged through the paths in the snow and steadily went toward the woods, axe in hand to deter suspicion. Everyone knew that Astrid practiced daily. It was how she was as good as fighting. Astrid did practice, for a short time. She threw her axe at tree-enemies, dodged their attacks while retrieving her axe, and counterattacked. If someone caught her in the woods, she dared them to say something while he held her axe.

Today, however, Astrid skipped the pretense of practice. She kept one eye out for witch hunters while she snaked her way further into the thick wood. She could still get lost easily, but she knew the way to their spot. She ducked below branches, stepped over thicker brambles, and maneuvered her way through the prickly, grabby limbs.

She came to the thicket, their thicket. She squeezed inside the small clearing. Somewhere, two dragons chirped and sang to one another. Sunlight speckled the clearing's floor, and among the golden flecks was something knew. A stone. Astrid set her axe against a tree and stepped over to it. She reached for it, and gasped before she'd touched it.

The stone had been polished and smoothed. Small intricate lines had been etched into the surface, creating a stunning image of a flower. It was too beautiful for human hands to make.

A small sound caught her attention, a footstep on soft ground.

"Did you make this?" Astrid asked without looking. She knew who it was. Him. She took her eyes off the stone to see him nod his masked face. He wore his leather mask today, and his strange assemblage of leather armor. He'd added to it over the years, more here, less there, until the whole site of him looked both terrifying and ridiculous.

"You've been flying?" Astrid asked.

He nodded. He stepped in and took a seat underneath the sunlight. It showed every nick and scratch on his leather suit. Astrid watched him for a moment longer. Elegance didn't describe him. He moved with a care, with awareness of his surroundings. In the past three years his limbs had grown longer, and he taller, although he hadn't gotten any wider. If anything, he'd thinned.

"My father's decided to cancel his trip this spring," Astrid said with a sigh as she walked over to join him. She sat down close enough to hear his breath hit the other side of his mask, to see the twitch in his eyes, and within easy reach. She kept her hands on the stone flower.

He moved slightly beside her, to look at her through his mask. She wanted to see his face, but she didn't know him without it. It molded with him in her dreams. It was him. He scooted a little closer.

"I didn't want him to," Astrid said, fingering the flower. "But I feel weird about him canceling it. He's been talking about it for a while now."

She paused. He nudged her. It was a small tease, a comfort given with playfulness.

"This morning I interrupted my parents talking. They were talking about me, I think." Astrid bit her lip. "I don't know what they were saying, but after that they starting talking all sappy and nostalgic. It was weird."

He tilted his head, curious.

"They're up to something. They're not telling me about it on purpose."

The arm that held him up scooted to her other side, so that he leaned in toward her. She could smell faint, stringent soap.

"I know it's probably nothing," Astrid said, trying not to lose herself in him. "The chief was at the house yesterday, talking with my dad in a hushed way, and stopped the moment he saw me. It's unsettling and frustrating."

His finger traced the curved of the stone flower, and then touched the back of her hand. His hands were the only part of him that she's seen, aside from his eyes. They were the only part of him that she'd touched, that had touched her.

"I'm afraid they're making plans without me," Astrid said quietly. "A few months ago, a girl younger than me was sold to a neighboring tribe as a bride. She'd never met the man but her parents and his had discussed it, and decided it for them. She was a muttonhead, and Berk's better off without her, but it's still strange to think her parents would just send her off."

His fingers laced with hers, familiar.

"I'm not a child anymore, I know that," Astrid said, staring at his callused hand. "My parents will expect me to settle down and have children. But…I don't want to. I want to adventure like my father, to explore, to be a warrior, not a wife and mother, only referred to by my role to my husband."

His thumb ran along hers. His touch was gentle, not what she'd expect from the fierce and feared dragon man.

"I'd rather be like you," Astrid said to his hand, then caught the brightness of his eyes. "Exploring the woods every day, living with dragons…it sounds exciting."

He squeezed her hand. She wished he would speak back, but like his mask, his voice ceased to exist in her dreams. He was a silent, faceless man. If those two traits were given him, who would he be? What if he was a dragon-demon underneath all that leather? Were his human eyes a rouse? She wanted to know but she didn't. She wanted him just the way he was.

She settled in beside him, resting against him with her cheek against his shoulder. In and out he breathed, humid puffs against his mask. She listened to the muffled breaths, felt them ooze out underneath it. She would be content if she could stay like this, but she knew she would have to return to Berk, to home. However, home could wait a little while.

X

Home did come, reluctantly. Astrid ate dinner with her parents and their guest that night, Spitelout. Spitelout and Harald talked politics, of near and far, and of nonsense things Astrid didn't care about. By the bored look on Ingrid's face, she didn't care either. As dinner came to an end, Astrid expected Spitelout to go, but he lingered.

"I'm off to bed," Astrid pretended to yawn. She hadn't made it to the first step before her father spoke.

"Not yet, Astrid," he said. "We've got something we need to discuss."

She turned around, aware that Spitelout's stare followed her. "What it is?"

Harald cleared his throat and looked at Ingrid. She nodded. "Yes. Astrid, you're a woman now. Far old enough to marry."

"Okay," Astrid said when her mother paused. The three adults exchanged glances and that unsettled rock pushed upward in her stomach. "I'll get right on that, but finding a husband is pretty low on my to-do list."

"Astrid," Ingrid said urgently, reaching out to Astrid's shoulders. "I should have told you sooner, but, I didn't. I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about?" Astrid said, louder this time.

"Do you remember when I was so sick years ago?" Ingrid asked. "I didn't fear death, I feared leaving you on your own. To protect you, I made an agreement."

"Of…?" Astrid asked, glancing in Spitelout's direction, that sickening sensation worsening by the moment.

Ingrid swallowed. "Dear, you've been promised to Snotlout."

"What?" Astrid screamed, her voice cracking. She shook her mother's arms off. "How could you do that?"

"I was thinking of your future," Ingrid pleaded.

"I could take care of myself," Astrid spat.

"It's a done deal," Harald said. "You've been paid for."

Astrid shook her head, unable to comprehend how such a good day could have gone so wrong.

"It's high time we starting planning the wedding," Spitelout said with a smile. "Snotlout's eager to marry."

Astrid shook, even the words 'Snotlout' and 'marry' sent an upsurge of nausea up through her throat. Ingrid stepped toward her, but Astrid pushed her hands away.

"No," Astrid mumbled through the swirling house. She stumbled backward and hit the door handle with her back. She reached for it and before anyone could stop her, she was out the door and running through the dark, winter night.

Freezing winds whipped at her face and tore through her clothes. It whisked up snow and bits of ice and hurled them at her. She ignored it all, and soon the calls of her name vanished into the night's darkness. She ran into the forest, only worried about putting distance between herself and her parents, and her never-to-be father-in-law.

Sold. She'd been sold like a yak for slaughter. Like hell if they thought she'd willingly marry Snotlout. She needed to talk to him, her witch, the only one that would listen. He always listened.

Astrid held too many worries as she ran. The sound of the rushing waters fell on her ears, but she did not hear them. She heard only her rapid breath, crunching of frozen ground underfoot, and the dread of a future she didn't want. The dark hid the treacherous ground and as the dirt slipped under her boot, she did not have time to react until the freezing waters had engulfed her.

Tiny, needle-pins stuck her from every side, stabbing deeper with every stick, soaking through her clothes and filling her boots. It filled her mouth as she tried to shout for help, stealing the breath away. All she felt was cold. All she saw was darkness.

She didn't want to drown, but maybe it would be better than a life with Snotlout. They would come looking, but never find her. They would assume her vanished, spirited away.

The cold water lashed at her face and pulled her under with the current, refusing to let her go. Someone yelled, but she couldn't understand them. She hit something hard and warm, and something fastened around her arms. The freezing water met the frigid air and she landed on the hard ground of the forest. Shivers ravaged her limbs, shaking her very core.

"Astrid?"

The ground moved, or she moved. Something pulled her to her feet.

"You'll be alright, but you have to come with me before you freeze to death."

Astrid could feel the water freezing to her skin. She blinked at that which she leaned against, and her shivering breath left her. It was her witch in his leather suit and mask. He moved and pulled her along with him, even as the world swayed.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N – I'm updating a lot this weekend. I had an extra day, and enthusiasm. I had the scene in this chapter in mind for a long time, even before this story was a thing, and I'm super excited to get to use it. BTW – you're all awesome.

X

 **Chapter 12: I Know Places**

The dark forest raced by in a blur of shadows and deadened Blood Trees. Gnarled branches stretched out to grab, but never reached. Astrid came and went between the forest and the frozen, encroaching darkness. It tugged on her shivering body, pulled her down and away from the warmth that held her. The world bounced around her, cold winds whipped, and froze the water on her cheeks.

"Come on, bud, faster!"

The forest vanished, and in the next moment heat, marvelous heat, gently touched her skin. It melted away the frigid pain and sting. She curled toward it, bright like the sun, but something held her back. Her body refused to move.

"Astrid, wake up."

Fire. The fire warmed her. Bright, flickering flames licked along the logs. Embers twirled into the air, and vanished into the gray smoke.

"Astrid? Look at me."

A hand touched her cheek, a warm digit. She blinked, and found his familiar face beside the fire. Wide, green eyes peeked from behind his mask. Behind him, the fire lit a cavern wall. The wall curved onto a stone ceiling. Cookery dangled on hooks. Old pots and pans piled on shelves. Baskets and dented tins and wooden bowls stacked to the ceiling.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft.

The past came back to her. The marriage. The desperate run. The fall into the waters. Astrid pushed herself up, and he reached to help. His eyes didn't leave her, and only vanished to blink. He had spoken. To her.

"Y-you," Astrid tried to say, to talk to him, to incite his voice again, to prove that it hadn't been a half-dead daydream.

"Astrid, you need to get out of those clothes."

He spoke. Astrid marveled at his mask that still hid his face, but his voice rang in her ears. His voice spoke her name, over and over.

"You did speak," Astrid said, her voice dry and cold, a stinging pain in her throat.

He nodded. "You'll warm up faster without those wet clothes." He reached to a crudely built wooden bench, and pulled his folded cloak from it. "I-I only have this for you to wear. Hurry, before you get sick." He stood up. "I'll just be…in here, while you, you know, change."

He walked out of the room. Astrid looked down at the cloak in her hands, and ran her fingers over the rough material. She wasn't sure what astounded her more. That he had spoken, or that he had told her to undress. Humor aside, he was write. Shaking, she began to undress. She tossed her frozen clothes to the floor, relishing the feeling of the hot fire on her bare skin. She wanted to jump into the flames and let the warmth consumer her, melt the ice completely.

She had imagined a voice to fit his frightening persona. Deep, powerful, and full of that natural grace that she associated with him. The nasal voice he spoke with wasn't deep or particularly powerful. He spoke with an uncertainty, cautiousness, but it still held the wonder that she expected, the audible compassion and gentleness. It fit it him, regardless.

He made a small sound, and Astrid realized she still stood naked beside the fire, holding his cloak in her hands. She drew it around her bare shoulders and said quietly, "I'm done."

He reappeared quickly. He came in and sat down on the wooden bench. She tugged on the front of the cloak and sat beside him. He made the smallest of sounds, but didn't move. His eyes found hers, and she smiled. The uncertainty in his eyes increased, swallowed them whole, and he blinked and looked away.

"Where does the smoke go?" Astrid asked, pulling her eyes away from him. She pointed toward the fire. The smoke bubbled up and vanished through a rocky crevasse in the ceiling. "I've never seen smoke from the village."

His eyes followed it, blinked, and then he rolled his shoulders in the gesture she knew so well. No one else moved like him. "I don't know. Up the mountain maybe?"

She took her eyes off of the smoke and looked back at him. His eyes reflected the firelight. He had such amazing eyes. She could watch them forever, studying the way the lashes fluttered when he blinked, the way he glanced at her, timid and unsure, the way he smiled with his eyes. He watched her, too.

Such eyes. Astrid extended her hand toward the cheek of his mask. Her palm met hardened leather, and he twitched out of her touch. She retracted her hand, curling her fingers toward her palm.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head, eyes on the floor. He blinked, met her eyes again, and reached for her hand. His fingers covered hers, and flattened her hands against his mask. He dropped his hand into his lap. She hesitated, then brought her other hand to mirror the first. A gentle nod of his eyes gave her all the assurance she needed. Astrid held her breath as she gripped the mask, and lifted it upward.

His eyes vanished from the holes, and a defined jaw appeared below, shadowed by fine stubble. Well-shaped lips followed, _his_ lips. A feverish warmth swarmed through her veins, and she leaned forward. She pressed her cold lips against his mouth. He jumped, but welcomed her simple kiss. She broke away, and lifted the mask off entirely. She found his eyes again, the same brilliant green, nestled underneath a mess of red-brown hair.

Astrid let the mask fall from her grip without looking where it landed. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. His eyes flickered downward, a brief showing of self-doubt, and she reached a hand out to his cheek. Underneath her cold palm the warmth in his face burned. His stubble tickled her fingertips. She didn't see the rest of him move, not his arm or hand, but she felt his calloused hand against her cheek. His hand covered her entire cheek, from his thumb on her cheekbone to his little finger along the pulse in her throat.

He came closer, and she leaned in without hesitation or thought for consequence. This is what she wanted, and she would have it.

His lips met hers, but not like before. A warmth spread through her like she'd never felt. No mead or medicine could mimic such a marvelous, weightless feeling. She melted into his touch, into his tender kiss, not minding the loose cloak as she abandoned her grip to touch his face. She felt the material slip down her shoulder, but made no move to hide herself. She didn't need to hide from him. A rough, gentle hand touched her exposed shoulder, warmed by the fire, kind my nature.

Their kiss ended, and Astrid hummed against his lips. She ran a finger along his jaw, along the fine stubble. "I was beginning to think you couldn't speak at all. Why not say something sooner?"

His eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes. His thumb traced her cheek. "I was told not to speak to anyone. But you're not just anyone. You're a friend."

A fire-flower bloomed in her chest, warming her far more than a fire ever could. "Who told you not to speak to anyone?"

"Mother," he said simply.

"Your mother?" Astrid asked. The flower hesitated and withdrew.

"Yes. She doesn't trust the Vikings, or anyone from Berk." His eyes moved to the fire and came back to her. He shifted. "What are you doing out here? You would have died if Toothless hadn't heard you last night."

"Toothless?" she asked slowly, making sure he'd heard him right.

"My dragon, the Night Fury," he said calmly, as if that was an obvious statement.

"The Night Fury?" Astrid's voice faded. The fearsome dragon flashed into her mind, poised to fight, teeth barred, hissing and snarling, a terrible sight that had left more than a few villagers unable to sleep. His rider had looked just as furious, dark, and mysterious. The young man whose face she held in her hands looked too kind and gentle to be the same glorious dragon master.

"Yes." He smiled, a warm sight that brought a shiver to her stomach. "I'll show him to you if you want. He likes you, I think. He didn't used to, but you've grown on him. He was worried about you." His magnificent smile straightened and fell in a frown. His hand on her shoulder tightened. "I am, too. What's wrong?"

Astrid inhaled, and the words bubbled up inside of her. The bright anger and ugly betrayal burned fresh. "My parents…they sold me." Anger turned sour in her stomach and melted her throat, choking her with a sob. "They sold me as a bride when I was fifteen. They just told me." She bit back the tears. "I don't want to marry him. I'd rather be an old maid, or dead."

He arms came around her, and she collapsed into him. She clutched onto him, and buried her face in his warm neck. Tears pushed their way out, and she fell apart in his arms. Two sturdy hands held her as she sobbed. The tears fell onto the leather and rolled off, gone without a trace. When the worst of it passed and the tears had gone, she remained in his arms until her cheeks dried. Reluctantly, she lifted her head. He watched her, brow furled, eyes confused and sincere. He reached up, and gently ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

"I-I don't know what to tell you," he said with a slight shake of his head, shaking his hair. It fell down into his eyes and she whisked it back. "I'm not familiar with marriage. My mother has talked about it, but not much."

Astrid swallowed. Her voice had gone dry, and came out like a croak. "It's when two people decide to start a life together, just the two of them. They get their own house and have children."

"Oh!" His eyes brightened. "When they become mates?"

"Yes." She nodded, a smile on her lips. His innocence lightened her heart, but reality pulled it back down. "I always wanted my parents' marriage. They were best friends, and always happy around each other, even if they were fighting or didn't agree. I don't…I can't stand Snotlout, let along be in the same house with him for the rest of my life."

He blinked, and nodded. She'd told him all about her friends and fellow Vikings. She had no doubt that he knew exactly who Snotlout was.

"If you don't want to marry him, you shouldn't have to," he said kindly. He touched her chin. His brows came together. "You are my best friend, should we get married?"

A smile burst over her face, and she couldn't have stopped it if she tried. He smiled in return, stroking her cheek. She said, "Maybe we should. I'd rather spend time with you."

The sparkle in his eye multiplied, and when he leaned in, she did, too. They kissed, and proved that their first kiss hadn't been a one-time accident of the extraordinary. This one warmed like the sun, too, and sent shocks through her cold body. She wanted more; she wanted to stay like this until they were both skeletons hugged by rock and dirt.

The fire burned and they stayed together, cuddled beside the flames sharing simple kisses and gentle touches. She didn't know what time it was and she didn't care. Time didn't exist in his cave-home. The cavern ceiling shielded them from the forces of day and night, from chores and duties. In this space, only they existed.

"Your clothes might be dry," he said after a while.

Astrid glanced over to her haphazard pile of discarded clothing. No patches of ice remained, nothing shimmered with lingering wet. Reluctantly she stood, abandoning her warm place beside him, and checked.

"Yeah, they're dry."

"Great." He jumped up from the bench, and her heart fell with his enthusiasm. He quickly added, "I want to show you something."

"What is it?"

"A surprise, but it's outside, and you should be dressed first." He jogged into the other room.

Astrid blinked at the empty doorway. With a sigh, she accepted that their moment had ended. She let his cloak fall to the floor and dressed without worrying if he peeked. He could, if he wanted to. She didn't mind those eyes.

Dressed, Astrid followed his steps out of the room. The rest of the cavern was dark. She squinted down a narrow corridor, and saw several rooms branching off.

"Ready?"

She jumped. He stood beside a very narrow slit in the rocky wall, half in and half out. He motioned for her to follow, a wide grin on his face, and then he vanished. Astrid went to the slit and peered inside. A long, shadowed hall stretched out. At the very end she saw a dim orange-red light, and heard the splatter of water echoing up through the rocky passage.

"Where are we going?" Astrid asked.

"Outside, come on." He spoke without hesitation or fear, and she let his courage fuel her.

She stepped into the pass after him, squeezing her body through the narrow gap. In several places the rocks brushed against her breast. If they were any bigger, she wouldn't fit through. Most Vikings wouldn't be able to fit through. She'd often wondered about his home, and now understood the real elusiveness. The hunters would never find him because they would never get to him.

How had he gotten her through it?

The pass opened, but only slightly. The end came to a small, shallow cave at the base of a waterfall. He stood at the mouth of the cave, waving her out. Astrid tiptoed alone the slippery rocks, not wanting to repeat the freezing water rescue. The mountain rose up above them, towering into the frosted darkness of a late twilight. The sun had vanished behind the western clouds, leaving them in a pale orange-blue light.

"Come, this way," he motioned to her.

Astrid followed him a short way into a mountain cave. The light did not reach, but he wasn't afraid.

"Toothless, are you in here, bud?" he called out. He turned to Astrid. "Since he can't go home with me, he lives here most of the time."

"Most of the time?" Astrid repeated.

"What? He's a dragon. The world is his home."

A low warble echoed inside the dark cave, and Astrid froze. She took a step toward the outside, and he reached out a calm hand to her.

"It's okay, he won't hurt you." His eyes gleamed in the darkness. "I promise. Trust me."

"Okay," Astrid said, although she didn't feel much better about the soft, padding footsteps coming toward them. The shadows moved, and something appeared through the darkness. Two bright green-yellow eyes peered out, wide and curious, followed by the rest of the dreaded, black Night Fury.

"Hey there, Toothless," he cooed. "You know Astrid, don't you? You saved her last night."

Toothless warbled softly, and sniffed the air. He nosed his master and warbled warmly into his chest. Then those big eyes turned to her, unblinking. The dragon inched closer to her, nostrils flaring with each sniff. A low warble came from the back of his throat. His wide mouth opened, and pink gums stared back at her.

"He doesn't have teeth?" Astrid asked.

"Oh, he does. They're retractable."

"Really?" Astrid asked.

"Okay, just let him know that you're a friend."

"How?" Astrid asked. He reached for her hand, and lifted it. He pulled her palm toward the dragon, who sniffed it, and gently touched his nose to her palm. The big dragon eyes blinked at her, and she smiled.

"See? Dragons aren't monsters." He stepped around the dragon's side, to the saddle. He padded the leather and held out his hand. "Let me show you."

Her heart fell into her stomach. "You mean flying?"

He nodded. "Come on."

She slid her hand into his. He helped her onto the saddle, and then climbed on himself, sitting in front of her.

"You're going to want to hold on," he said with a smile.

Astrid listened, and snaked her arms around his middle.

"Okay, bud, you know what to do. But let's take it slow to start, alright?" he said to the dragon, who answered with a dangerous warble.

"What does that mean?"

He laughed, a nervous sound that made her grip his leather suit tighter. "I don't know. I can't actually talk to dragons."

Toothless shot toward the mouth of the cave. In one swish motion he extended his massive wings, pushed off the ground, and took off toward the sliver of the moon. Astrid held on, muffling her screams in his back, as the cold wind slapped against her cheeks. The mask suddenly made much more sense. The ground below lurched farther away, and she closed her eyes and buried her face in his back.

The dragon soared upward, farther and farther, pushing her stomach into her throat. The rushing finally stopped, but it took a moment before her insides returned to their normal places.

"Astrid, look."

She peeled her cheek away from his leather-clad shoulder and opened her eyes. What she saw took her breath away, pulling it out in an awed gasped. Instead of the ground, below them was a floor of fluffy clouds, turned golden by the sun. On all sides, clouds towered in pink and golden and orange pillars. Up and down no longer mattered as Toothless navigated between them with ease, the same natural grace he shared with his rider.

"It's amazing," Astrid breathed in his ear. She tightened her embrace around him, hugging him close. She'd often wondered what Valhalla looked like, and now she knew.

"I've tried to tell Mom that we need to do something about the fighting. She doesn't want to bother. She doesn't think that Vikings can change." The tone that he spoke with tore at her heart. Disappointment filtered through, edged with defeat.

"They've never seen this," Astrid said.

"I know. If they only knew what it was like to have dragons as friends, not enemies, they would change. Like you."

"Yeah," Astrid agreed. His hand touched hers. "I could get used to this."

She could get used to flying through the skies, without limits, without guidelines, exploring and wandering. She could seek her own adventure, like her father, and make her own amazing tales. She'd fallen in love with flying, with the sky, to the man she held onto to. She knew it, and wouldn't deny it if he asked. Would it be possible to stay with him in the forest? They could leave Berk behind and start somewhere else.

They flew for what felt like a short amount of time. He called it a night when Astrid's growling stomach caught his attention. She tried to laugh it off, but he wouldn't hear it. They would find something warm to eat at home. They tipped below the clouds and the night greeted them. Astrid found Berk, a tiny mass of glittering torchlight and windows, and her mouth fell open. Toothless flew over the trees, toward the mountain, and landed swiftly by the cave.

He climbed off the saddle and she lingered, but accepted his hand and slid to the ground.

"We'll see you later, bud," he said, gently padding the dragon's head.

Astrid laced her fingers with his as they headed back toward the narrow passage behind the waterfall. She couldn't go home. Not after that evening. Not after him. Her mind returned to the burning hearth fire, and a night spent with him, and followed him into the passage. She happily stepped back into his cavern house, but he stopped short.

"What is this?" a shrill voice asked.

Astrid looked around him to see an unhappy, middle-aged woman standing in the doorway to the hearth room, hands on her hips, face turned in a scowl.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N – SORRY about not updating sooner. I've been putting the majority of my time into my novel. That's not to say that I don't love this story, too, I do, but I've got priorities.

Good news – I've finished my final proof. I'm self-pubbing through create space, and I uploaded the manuscript about an hour ago. They are doing some review thing that will take about 24 hours, and then I think it'll be good to go. I don't know. I've not done this before.

Thank you to everyone that waited patiently for this update. I know it's been a while. Since I'm done with the editing, I'll have more time now. I will try my best to push out these updates sooner.

X

 **Chapter 13: Hideaway**

Hiccup froze; he'd seen his mother's gaze worried, angry, disappointed, and sad, but he had never seen such a livid rage before. Astrid took a step back, and Hiccup sidestepped in front of her, putting himself in his mother's view instead.

"Mom, it's fine," he said, but she spoke over him.

"You brought one of them into our house!" She flailed her arms at Astrid, eyes wide and manic. "Do you even realize what you've done? You've exposed us both! They'll be here in hoards by sunup."

"No, they won't," Hiccup said, louder than his mother.

"Oh?" Valka snapped. "And just how do you know she won't run home and tell them all?"

"Because," Hiccup said, and steeled himself for the rest, knowing his mother's fury. "If she was going to, she'd have done it before now."

Valka's brow came together, and a silent confusion spread over her lips. She looked over his shoulder at Astrid, and understanding came over her features, widening her anger into shocked surprise. She began to pace, hands rubbing her head. A Terrible Terror scurried back and forth with her.

"I should have known," Valka said, eyes closed. "I thought it was strange that you just happened to find a girl in the woods and watch her fall. You couldn't have just left her alone, could you?"

Hiccup looked back at Astrid, who looked uncomfortable. She had backed against the wall, and flattened herself against it.

"How long have you been seeing her?"

Hiccup shrugged. "A while."

Valka glared, eyes open and wide. "How long is a while?"

"Years."

Valka said nothing, but her rage boiled behind her eyes, into steam. "Gods, son. Go into the hearth and wait for me. I want to hear what happened. Everything."

Valka vanished down the hall, and turned into her bedroom. The curtain swished behind her, and the little Terror ran inside after her.

"I'm sorry," Astrid said, barely audible.

Hiccup spun. "No, no, it's not you. She's like that most of the time."

Astrid didn't look convinced. Hiccup held out his hand, and she took it. He led her the short ways into the hearth room, and she sat while he put another log onto the fire. Valka returned shortly, with makings for tea. She took one of the pans, left, and returned with clear water. While the water heated, Hiccup and Astrid took turns retelling the story of the past few years, each of their meetings summed up. Valka kept her comments to herself, with effort. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth several times to keep her half-gasps and angry snorts to herself. Finally, at the end of the story, she let out a long sigh.

"This is a mistake," Valka said at last. Her eyes were on Hiccup's hand, holding Astrid's. She rubbed her temple. "What am I supposed to do with you? I can barely keep the two of us alive and fed, let alone another."

"We'll be fine, Mom," Hiccup assured her.

"You don't know that," Valka said. She turned her gaze back on Astrid. "If you stay here, they'll assume you dead. They'll claim another victim to the dragons or witches, or whatever states their bloodlust. If you return now, I might as well slit your throat for you."

Astrid tensed beside him, squeezing his hand.

"It won't come to that," Hiccup said, shaking his head.

"I hope to Odin that it doesn't."

The water boiled, and Valka poured three mugs of tea. Astrid hesitantly took hers, and only sipped it after Hiccup sipped his. Valka took her mug and left, long dark braid swinging behind her. She paused in the doorway.

"Just, stay here today. Don't go near the village, either of you." She put a hand to her head. "I need to lay down."

Her footsteps padded down the stone floor, accompanied by the scurrying of four little ones.

"I don't think she likes me," Astrid said quietly.

Hiccup smiled at her, to get her to smile, but she didn't. "That went a lot better than I thought it would, actually."

He squeezed her hand, but her frown persisted. He leaned in, and kissed her cheek. A small smile, more timid than happy, broke apart her lips.

"She'll warm up to you, just like I did. She just needs time. She's not good with changes."

"I hope your right," Astrid said, and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

X

Astrid fought to finished her bland, bitter tea. He had poured it down his throat like water. When he offered to go back outside, she didn't object. She didn't want to be in here anymore. Not with his mother around, frowning and scowling in her direction. She followed him back through the narrow tunnel and outside, where the sun had come up and lit the sky bright blue. She didn't see clouds, but she felt the humidity in the air. A storm was on its way.

Toothless played not far from the cavern entrance, with a blue Deadly Nadder. They raced each other in short circles, chirping to one another. It took Astrid a moment to realize that the Nadder was the same from before, from the clearing, from the arena. As it dawned on her, he looked back with a bright smile on his face.

"I've got an idea," he said.

"Okay," she said tentatively. He took a step backward, toward the dragons.

"There is a place up on the mountain, higher than you can climb, where I go when my mom is driving me crazy." He looked back at the dragons. Toothless saw him, warbled, and continued playing with the Nadder. He turned back to Astrid with a grin that melted her. "I'll take you there, but only if you'll fly."

"I've already flown."

"With me." He grinned wider. "You have to fly on your own."

Whatever grin she'd had fell into a frown. "What?"

"See? This Nadder is friendly." He whistled, and Toothless hopped over to his rider, nuzzling his nose into his hand, curving his black body around him. The Nadder took a cautious step forward, yellow eyes on Astrid, but when she saw him, she pranced right over. "She remembers you, Astrid. Come here."

Astrid took careful steps toward the Nadder. She fluffed her wings, and tilted her head to see her better. Astrid watched the dragon's nostrils flare and retract quickly, sniffing. The Nadder twitched her head toward Astrid.

"Go on," he said. "Show her that you're a friend."

Astrid reached out, palm exposed to the dragon, and she met her halfway, pressing her warm, dry snort into Astrid's hand. The dragon nuzzled Astrid, sniffing her hair and pushing her braid about. She circled her several times, pressing her nose into her stomach, her back, chirping and warbling. Astrid laughed as the short hairs that fell from her braid danced in the dragon's exhale, tickling her neck.

"What's her name?" Astrid asked, giving the Nadder a pat on the nose.

"She doesn't have one," he shrugged. "Nothing I've come up with seems to fit. She likes me, but not that much. I think she likes you, though."

With Hiccup's encouragement and instruction, Astrid climbed onto the Nadder's bare back. It was awkward, nothing like the leather saddle on Toothless, and he promised to make her one, but it might take time to gather materials.

"Okay, I'm ready." Astrid said. She held onto the Nadder's crown of horns. He climbed up behind her, and loosely draped his arms around her waist.

"Give her a gentle nudge," he said, and demonstrated with his own leg, tapping the dragon's side. "Each dragon has their own way of talking, but she'll get used to you and your signals."

Astrid nudged the dragon's side, and lightly tugged back on the horns. The Nadder leaped into the air, threw her wings out, and flew over the trees. Astrid held on tight, and blinked away the biting wind. The forest shrunk, and far away she saw the village. He reached around her, hands on hers, and urged the dragon to climb higher. As they rose, Astrid could see farther than she ever had. She saw the distant storm clouds, above the odd coloring on the horizon that could only be the ocean. They circled the mountain, and put it between them and the village.

"See? That wasn't so bad." He removed his hands from hers, and draped them again around her. Toothless flew beside them, looking odd without someone on his back.

He guided her higher, almost to the peak of the mountain. The air cooled; ice grew thick on the summit. She saw the cave he'd mentioned, and they flew toward it. Toothless landed first, and vanished into the cavern. Astrid landed after, and he slid off and landed swiftly. Toothless blew a bright blue blast into a dark fire pit, and the cavern came to life.

"Wow," Astrid said as she slipped off the dragon's back and onto the floor. "You've really spent some time here."

"Yeah, well, there's not much to do out here."

A stack of firewood rested in one corner, and a well-used fire-pit glowed in the center. He had a makeshift bed with furs and wool blankets, a small forge, workstation piled with pencils, drawings, and do-dads. A basket beside the desk was full of metal scraps. Leather piled on one shelf, wool on another.

"Where did you get all this?" Astrid fingered the stack of leather. Some were new, some were quite old and brittle. The metal looked as mismatched as the leather.

"I-I, uh, may have taken it from the village. I know, it's kind of stealing, but I'm trying to survive out here without losing my mind." He half-laughed. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "I don't take things that I think will be missed. I try not to. A strip of leather here, a loaf of bread there, some hay over here. A blanket. A pair of socks. Wool. A spoon. Mom does it to, she just doesn't like to admit it."

Astrid gazed at all the drawings. They were of dragons, of weapons, of people and plants. She spotted one drawing, half-hidden by another, and she pulled it out.

"Oh, wait, that's-"

"Me?"

He stopped mid-step, mouth open and eyes wide. He retracted his outstretched hand, curled his fingers into his fist, and nodded. "Yeah."

Astrid stared down at the picture. It was her, in the woods, with her axe stuck in a tree. He'd put some detail into her face, into her hair, into her clothing.

"I didn't think you'd be here, or I would have hidden it better."

"Why?" She looked at him. Red tinted his cheeks. Astrid set the picture down on top of the others. No one had drawn her before. "It's nice. What do you with all this metal?"

"Nothing, really, I just mess around for something to do."

Astrid was looking at the jumbled parts when she heard him yawn. She turned around just in time to see his mouth close. He looked at her, sleepy and droopy.

"What?" He said with a half-grin. "It's been a long night."

She walked toward him, hands in front of her, face blushing. Her eyes landed on his bed, room enough for one, comfortably. "It has been. I could use a nap."

He blushed, too. "The bed's not very big."

"That's okay." She smiled, and looked down at her hands. She'd never flirted, but she'd seen others do it plenty to understand it. She looked up at him, bit her lip, and said, "It's cold up here. I'll need someone to keep me warm."

He blushed, and held out his hand. She took it without hesitation. He led her toward the simple bed. Boots off, they cuddled into the furs. Astrid settled into him, and he molded against her. Toothless and the unnamed Nadder settled, too.

"It's amazing that the dragons are so well behaved," Astrid said. Her breath bounced off of his cheek, and came back to her lips. "When they attack the village they're so…angry."

He sighed. "I know. It's not their fault, it's the alpha."

"There's an alpha?"

"Yeah, he's somewhere close by. He's the one telling the dragons to attack. They always listen to the alpha dragon."

"Can't we go talk to him about his attitude?"

"It's not that simple." He hugged her closer. His fingertips touched her neck. "Mom is worried that if we did something to the alpha, the dragons might go into a frenzy, worse than before."

"There's got to be something we can do."

"I wish there was. I've been trying to figure something out for a while now."

"You'll think of something. You're the dragon master, after all."

Astrid fingered the collar of his shirt. It looked like one he'd worn for a long time. The edges were worn and frayed. Above it, his throat pulsed with his heartbeat. The bob in his throat moved when he swallowed. His hand moved beneath the blanket to her waist, and his lips met her forehead. Astrid held her breath, and savored the feeling. How could this one man make her feel so…amazing?

"Thank you, Astrid."

"For what?"

"Being you. You're amazing, you know?"

She curled into him, pressing her nose into his neck, into his rapid pulse, and hugged her body around his. She'd never felt an attraction like this before. She'd had simple childhood crushes, on warriors with envious skill and merit, but those were nothing like this one. She admired the others; she wanted to curl up with her dragon master and make love with him. She'd never felt the urge before, to be with someone so entirely. She understood the pull, now. The need.

She ran a fingertip along his jaw, and kissed his stubble-strewn cheek. His arms came around her, and he met her lips with his own. Under the blanket they were safe, unseen. No one could point fingers, accuse, deny, or cajole. Here, in this cave high in the sky where only dragons tread, they were safe.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N –** Sorry about the long wait between the updates! Thanks for being patient. And awesome. Have I told you all how awesome you are? Well, you're awesome.

 **BIG NEWS** – I'm published! (No, not pregnant. I said this to a friend and that was her first response.) My urban fantasy novel, Devil's Blood, is up for purchase on Amazon right now. I use the pend name B.B. Morgan. It would be amazing if you would go check it out, maybe buy it, and leave a review. Being a writer is my dream, and breaking into the publishing world is about like trying to break into the music industry – really super freaking hard. However, in the publishing world thanks for independent publishers like Amazon, it's easy to get into the market. Then it's up to the readers to decide. That's you all.

(Devil's Blood is part of a series, #1, so there will be more books coming out. I'm already working on the first draft of #2. I aim to have it out by this time next year, but that's tentative.)

ANYWAY, onward to the actually chapter:

 **Chapter 14: Stay Gone**

Stoick whittled; it was a useless pastime, but it passed the time he'd otherwise spend worrying. The hearth burned away on the last log on the fire. Someone else's dinner filled his stomach, like most nights. His own hearth hadn't seen a warm meal in nearly twenty years. Only fires. Stoick pulled his sorrow in and tore his eyes away from the hearth. He could still see Valka standing there, some concoction bubbling away. He no longer felt the dread of dinner. He missed it. He missed her.

Stoick leaned back in his chair, the same chair he sat in when his worries grew too heavy, which happened more of late than it had before. What was a chief to do? Astrid had not returned from the forest and no one has been able to find her, or any trace of her. Harald claimed to have found a footprint by the river, but it could have been one of the hunters, or a dragon, or a wild boar. One footprint, not a body.

A body. That thought sent a cold shiver through him. He did not want to find Astrid dead. The poor girl, and such a talented warrior to loose. What else could he have told her to convince her of the forest's dangers? The stubborn girl thought otherwise, Stoick saw it in her eyes, no matter how many people the dragons hurt or killed, no matter how many times he reminded her of those that had been taken.

Twenty years.

He'd been able to keep her infatuation with the forest and her connection to the witch a secret, but that had changed when she ran into the forest. Spitelout made damn sure of that. It hadn't been an hour before the entire village knew that she'd run off, and whispers soared from there.

Stoick had the same questions as everyone else: Why had she run? Where did she run to? Was she not afraid of the dragons and witches? What did this have to do with the dragon master burning her house down? He had singled her out. Why? Why? Why?

If Astrid were to return, it wouldn't be to anything good. She humiliated the Jorgenson family, and her own. Spitelout has been stirring the gossip pot as much as he can, spilling vile rumors whenever possible. He'd always held the largest spoon. He'd make sure that Astrid's betrayal came well-known.

The fire crackled down to the last embers, and Stoick stood to settle into his bed. No point in worrying. His troubles would all be there in the morning.

He had one foot through his bedroom door when a fierce knocking hit his front door.

"What?" Stoick thundered.

The door opened, and Gobber and two breathless hunters ran inside.

"An attack?" Stoick grabbed his axe and held it tight.

"No," one of the hunters said, hand on his chest. He heaved for breath, hands on his knees. "We were in the forest, to the southeast, and we saw, the beast."

"The Night Fury," the other chimed in, just as breathless.

"Did it attack?" Stoick looked the men over for injuries. They appeared fine.

"No," Gobber said, and motioned toward Stoick. "Come on now, get to the good part."

"The dragon master rode the beast, but he wasn't alone."

Stoick met Gobber's gaze, and prayed to Thor that his assumption was wrong. "What do you mean he wasn't alone?"

"Someone rode with him, a blonde woman."

Stoick took a deep breath, squeezing the handle of his axe.

"This doesn't look good, Stoick," said Gobber.

"No, it does not." Stoick grit his teeth, and exhaled slowly. He pointed his axe to the hunters. "Go home. Get some rest. I will inform her family. Keep this to yourselves for now. I don't want unnecessary hysteria."

"Yes, Chief," they said together, and scurried out of the door.

Stoick watched them stumble down the hill from his door and to their own, and made sure they didn't go elsewhere. Only after did Stoick make the dreadful walk to the Hofferson's house. It was late; a knock at this house would rile them, no doubt. Stoick steeled himself, and knocked on their door.

Harald opened it. "Stoick?

Ingrid stood by the stove, but no stew cooked in the pot.

"May I come inside?" Stoick asked kindly. He saw the effect this had on both Harald and Ingrid: intimidation, fear, and anxiety. "I am sorry to bother you this late, but it couldn't wait until morning. I wanted you to hear this from me first."

Harald shut the door quickly. "What happened? Is it Astrid?"

Stoick held his breath; his pause gave away the answer. Ingrid covered her mouth, eyes glistening, and fell back into her chair.

"Oh, please, don't say she's dead," Ingrid cried, her voice already ragged from tears.

"No," Stoick said. "Two hunters returned just now claiming to have seen Astrid with the dragon master, riding with him on his Night Fury."

"Oh, Odin, no," Ingrid cried.

"What?" Harald said, shaking his head. His blue eyes held the same fierce stubbornness as Astrid's.

Stoick inhaled, and kept his voice even as he told them, "If Astrid has indeed chosen the dragon master over Berk, then she is an enemy, just like him."

X

Astrid woke up to an empty bed. She ran her hand along the warm furs underneath her. The night before seemed too dream-like to have happened, more daydream than reality, but her bare skin against the furs confirmed it. The soreness between her legs told it that it had happened. She had pulled him closer, and let him make love to her. She had given herself to him. She belonged to him, no one else.

Her parents couldn't give her away now, not like she was. They couldn't sell what she had given away.

She rolled onto her side. He stood at his work bench, wearing his simple pants and shirt. His armor lay to the side, and he held one of his shoulder pads in his hand. He hammered and tweaked, fixing it by the sounds. Astrid watched him for a while, until he turned around and saw her.

"Good morning," he said. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in a long time." It was no lie.

"How do you feel?" His eyes glanced along her blanketed body.

"Fine," she said. Sore, but fine. Losing her purity hadn't hurt as much as she'd thought. She felt much the same as she had the night before.

His face reddened, and he took long strides to her. "Was that, I mean, have you…" He tried to speak with his hands, but they stumbled too. He blurted, "Have you done that before?"

Astrid shook her head. "Why? Did you think I had?"

"No," he said quickly. "I just…I mean…"

"Just start talking," Astrid said softly. "Let the words flow. Don't worry about them making sense."

A smile tilted his worried lips. He blinked and looked down at his hands, holding the leather shoulder pad. "Dragons mate for life. I know that dragons and Vikings are different. Sometimes people don't always follow the rules they say they do and sometimes they do things they shouldn't, like when they marry they're mates, but not always mates for life."

"We're mates now, right?" Astrid asked. The primal sound of the word tingled on her tongue. Mates.

He looked up at her, eyes wide.

"That's what it means, isn't it?" Astrid sat up, holding the blanket to her chest. His eyes flickered to her bare back, down to the curve of her hip that vanished into the blanket. She didn't mind him seeing her naked, he already had, but it was still chilly despite the fire. "I gave myself to you. I'm yours."

His worried features softened; he closed the space between them, took her face into his hands, and kissed her.

"Was that your first time?" Astrid asked.

He smiled, embarrassed. "Oh, I mate with all the girls in the woods."

"So just me?"

"Just you. Only you." He kissed her again.

"You gave me you, so that mean you're mine," Astrid added, her breath against his lips.

"Yours. Astrid's."

Her name on his tongue warmed her like no fire could. She pulled him down into the blankets with her, and he gladly came. She snuggled to him and he held her close, as close as they had been the night before, only this time he wore clothes.

"Yours," Astrid said, then paused and sat up, not minding the blanket as it fell away from her chest.

"Is something wrong?" He sat up on his elbows.

"I don't know your name." The subtle fact caused a violent alarm in her chest. She gave herself to him without knowing his name. In her mind he'd never needed a name. He hadn't needed a face or a voice.

He blinked at her, and leaned away, surprised. "Oh. I told you, didn't I?"

She shook her head.

He shrugged. "Hiccup."

"Hiccup," she repeated.

He smiled, and kissed her. The more she knew about her witch in the woods, the more human he became, more tangible, within reach, and yet she didn't tire of him. She wanted more. He kissed her harder, and she let him.

Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup.

The more his name resounded in her mind, the more familiar it became. Hiccup. With each repetition, a darkness ebbed forward. Why?

"Hiccup," Astrid said aloud, and felt the same sense of darkness, of sadness, as if attached to his name.

"Yes?" He paused his kiss on her neck. "Astrid? What's wrong?"

Hiccup leaned away, brows together, eyes searching her face. Astrid couldn't make the words form, her thoughts tumbled about like angry Terrible Terrors.

"Astrid?" Hiccup brushed his fingertips along her jaw.

"How old are you?" Astrid asked in a single breath. Before he could answer she added, "You'll be nineteen this winter?"

He blinked, leaning away. "Yes. How did you know that?"

Astrid couldn't form words. She shook her head, trying to loosen them. Hiccup. His mother. Pieces that had been right in front of her all along. Why hadn't she seen them before? There were no witches. There never were.

"Astrid? What's wrong?" Hiccup said again, feverishly this time, with his hands on her shoulders.

Astrid couldn't take her eyes off of him. Hiccup. It had been almost twenty years since Stoick's wife and young son vanished; that son, Astrid knew for certain, had been named Hiccup. He'd been a tiny thing, she'd heard. This Hiccup, this young man, had lanky limbs and thighs like weak branches. He would have been a small baby. Could it possibly be? Could this stranger to the village be the heir to Berk?

"Hiccup," Astrid said with what little voice she had. "It's you."

"Yes, it's me?" Hiccup raised a brow at her. His hand met her cheek and ran a finger underneath her eye. "Astrid, tell me what's wrong. Don't worry about the words not making sense. Let them flow."

She smiled, and tried to laugh; how could she tell him the truth? Did he know? Did she want him to know? What if she was wrong?

"Astrid?"

"It's just a lot of emotions right now," Astrid whispered, not entirely a lie. She felt a great deal. "Overwhelming. It's overwhelming. And I don't know what to do about it."

"It'll be okay. I'm here." Hiccup hugged her tight. "I'll always be right here."

Astrid locked her arms around his narrow middle. Stoick had mourned his loss for twenty years, and his son had been a stone's throw away the entire time, watching. Stoick had order arrows fired at his son, pinned for his death and demise, and cursed him. Astrid grabbed onto Hiccup's shirt, and buried her face into his neck. He'd been right here all along.

X

"Stoick!" Gobber called; he burst through the front door and sent it slamming into the wall. "Stoick! We've got a problem!"

Stoick had woken up with the call. The banging of the door had shaken him out of his bed. He grabbed his axe on instinct on his way out of the house. Gobber stood in the doorway, hand and hook on his knees; he'd run as fast as he could. Dawn had broken behind him. Blue skies, no dragons, no fires.

"What is it?" Stoick released his death grip on the axe.

"It's Spitelout, he's at the Great Hall."

Gobber needn't say anymore; Stoick pushed past him and ran toward the Great Hall. Thor only knew what that revenge-driven madman would be doing. Nothing good. At once, Stoick saw the gathering Vikings at the steps, and Spitelout standing several steps higher, talking with his hands, pointing his sword above their heads.

"She's turned her back on us! Forsaken us!" Spitelout shouted.

A whisper sizzled through the crowd, turning into a venomous chatter. Stoick ran faster. He'd knock that idiot off those steps and throw him into the ocean, unless Harald got there first.

"She's been against us this whole time! It's that girl's fault the dragons keep attacking!" Spitelout puffed his chest out at the agreeing murmurs. "I say if those beasts want her so bad, we give her to them!"

Several shouted along with him, fists in the air.

"Let those witches have her!"

"Yeah!" "I'm with Spitelout!" "Get rid of her!"

"Spitelout!" Stoick shouted over the crowd, and brought it to an immediate silence. He parted the lingering mass of Vikings, never breaking eye contact with Spitelout. He stomped up the steps to be eye level with Spitelout. "What in Odin's name are you doing?"

Spitelout puffed himself up again. "That Hofferson girl's run off into the woods."

The murmuring grew behind him. Stoick tightened his grip on the axe, willing himself not to hurl it through the man's head. It might break the axe. Why couldn't it have been a dragon attack?

Spitelout threw his hands into the air, gesturing toward the crowd. "Astrid's put the entire village in danger. Who knows what kind of spell those witches have put her under. She could have been passing them information on us, letting them into the village, hiding them."

The murmurs turned frightened, angry, and louder.

"That is nonsense," Stoick said with as much force as he could without thundering it at them all. He had to stop this before it got out of his hands.

Spitelout crossed his arms, a triumphant grin on his ugly mug. "Did you know that Astrid kept seeing that devil from the woods?"

Stoick's silence rushed the crowd with a new wave of murmurs, louder than before, suspicious and agitated.

Spitelout basked in his blow. "That's what I suspected. You knew that Astrid couldn't be trusted, yet you didn't see fit to punish her. Our own chief didn't expose her wicked deeds."

"What wicked deeds would those be? Turn down your boy?" Stoick pointed at him with the tip of his axe, sharpened and ready to slice through flesh. "If I had the choice between Snotlout and the woods, I'd have taken the woods, too."

A few people laughed, others lightened. A few nodded. Spitelout frowned.

"No matter," Spitelout said, taking his leave through the crowd, one step at a time. "She went on her own time, willingly to the witches. She has thrown herself to them. She's shone her true colors. She's not one us of anymore. She's one of them."

Every eye turned to Stoick for the answer, for hope, for the truth about Astrid Hofferson; no one wanted to believe that she, a talented and promising warrior and Viking had done such a treasonous thing as to side with dragons, with those witches.

"Astrid has gone," Stoick announced, much to the shocked surprise of the crowd. "Where she is, we don't know, or when she will return. Don't listen to Spitelout. We will not label her a criminal without an explanation. If she is found, I am the first person to notify. The Viking that harms her will deal with me."

The crowd nodded, eyes lingering on the axe Stoick held out above their heads. He meant those words. If any one of those men or women attacked Astrid, it would be because of Spitelout's accusations.

"Get back to your duties," Stoick said as he shooed them away from the steps. "Berk won't run itself."

Across the crowd, Stoick met the eyes of Harald Hofferson. A rock fell into his gut. Stoick made his way across the square and to their home. Harald looked on edge, like he hadn't slept or eaten since Astrid's flight to the woods. Ingrid looked worse. She'd lost weight, dark circles plagued her eyes, and she clutched her husband's shirtsleeve as if it were the only thing keeping her standing upright. It might have been.

Stoick followed them into their home and sat down at their table. Harald shut the door, Ingrid slumped into her chair beside the hearth fire, and Harald clasped his hands over his face.

"What do we do, Chief?" Harald came to sit at the table, across from Stoick. "If Astrid shows her face again she'll be a dead Viking. I've heard the hunters talking about what they'll do to her if they find her." Harald's eyes watered, and a burning hate, a father's worry, and sleeplessness mixed together behind them. "Spitelout keeps spitting nonsense about a sacrifice to the witches, like that will make things any better."

"I agree," Stoick said. "If that witch is infatuated with Astrid, killing her would only enrage him."

"Then why does he keep it up?" Ingrid asked, her voice hoarse. "He's turned half the village against her already."

"He wants revenge," Stoick told them both. "Spitelout is trying his best to make things worse."

"He's doing a damn good job," Harald spat. He blinked the water from his eyes. He turned away from Stoick and stared into the fire. "All we can do is hope the hunters come back empty-handed. As long as Astrid stays gone, she'll be safe."

Stoick stood to leave. They needed time alone. He took a step to the door, then turned. "I know it is hard," Stoick began, and felt the rock in his throat. He swallowed over it. "I know the pain of losing a child. Be thankful that you still have your wife, Harald."

Harald teetered on the verge of tears, but refused to show them. Ingrid buried her face into her hands. Stoick knew that to be his departing call, and bid them then a farewell; he left them to their grieving. It would be a long day for them, and a long time to not feel the emptiness Astrid had left. How long, Stoick didn't know. He still felt it.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N –** Again, sorry about the lengthy waits between updates. It's been busy. It's taken my literally about a week to edit this chapter. I've only been able to do it in spurts of ten minutes here, an hour over there before bed, and once I get home from work I'm exhausted. Then it's homework time. I should have more time come summer. Also, more advertising: my novel is out in ebook form now. There's more information on my profile.

 **Chapter 15: Where Only Dragons Tread**

Astrid stayed in the warmth of the fur-lined bed as long as she could. She watched Hiccup twiddle with tools that looked like he'd scavenged from Gobber's trash. He probably had. How many times had Berk's mysterious witch in the woods tiptoed through the village? She had witnessed his light steps herself; he'd snuck in and out of her bedroom on the second floor without being caught.

Hunger pulled at her insides, drawing her out of the bed at last. She dressed quickly, closer to the fire to fight the lingering chill. Hiccup's eyes slid from whatever metal contraption he held; it fell to the desk with a clatter, despite his best attempt to catch it first. She pretended not to notice.

"Why is it still so cold?" Astrid asked, tugging on her last boot. Her freezing clothes did not help.

"It's because we're so close to the peak," Hiccup answered. He pointed upward, holding the contraption in his other hand.

"It doesn't feel that high," Astrid said, eyes on the rocky ceiling. "We could be underground."

Hiccup shrugged. "I mean, rock is ground so we're sort of underground."

Astrid smiled. Logic. She wished more Vikings had it.

She took long strides to his desk, and pointed down at the thing in his hands. "What is that?"

"This?" Hiccup held it up. It looked like some kind of tiny crossbow. He shrugged, and set it back down on the table with a pink tint to his freckled cheeks. "Oh, it's, uh, nothing special really."

"What does it do?"

"It's supposed to be a catapult, or part of a catapult." He shrugged again and his entire body bounced.

"It's so small."

"I-I had the idea to make a shield for myself, you know, to help during the dragon attacks. But I want more than a shield." Hiccup gestured to a piece of yellowed paper that he'd uncovered in his mess: a schematic of some kind, a shield with hundreds of working parts. It looked beyond ridiculous, but somehow _Hiccup_. "I could add this into the side of the shield, weld it into the metal itself, and instead of holding both a shield and a crossbow, I'd just have a shield."

"What would you shoot?" Astrid asked. Who would he be shooting at?

"I don't know," Hiccup said. "I-I haven't thought that far. Nets maybe, to distract people."

Astrid looked between him, his tiny catapult, and his drawn shield. No one else on Berk could have thought up something like that. It was too unlike traditional fighting, not the same, different, smarter. Hiccup had something else inside of him. Had it come from a life spent in observation? She didn't know for sure, but she knew that whatever it was came from him. If Snotlout had been raised in the woods, he'd still be a braggart and an idiot. Knowing him, he wouldn't have survived.

"You'll think of something," Astrid said. She rested her hand on the rough leather of his shoulder. His armor added to his shoulders; she could picture him without it, see his pale back, the freckles, the curve of his spine.

His hand rested on top of hers. "Thank you, Astrid."

Astrid closed the small space between them and rested her temple against his cheek. The warmth underneath his cooled skin melted into her, and she wouldn't mind staying like this for a while. The awful gnawing in her gut subsided, the one that had nothing to do with the hunger in her belly. She wanted to stay with him forever, out here and free, but she couldn't. She couldn't abandon her family. She would have to go back, even if just to say goodbye.

"Hungry?"

Astrid opened her eyes. "Yes."

Hiccup leaned away, twisting in her arm to face her. "I don't have much to eat up here. We'll have to go back down the mountain for something to eat."

"Does your mother cook? Astrid asked. At the word _mother_ she felt a shiver. Hiccup Haddock's mother. Stoick the Vast's missing, supposedly dead, wife. A wild thought had occurred to her some minutes before, that the woman that raised Hiccup might not be his mother but the witch of myth. Her gut had shot those thoughts down, but the apprehension lingered.

"Yes," Hiccup said with a smirk. He shook his head. "But I wouldn't eat it."

He laughed, the warm laugh that she loved, but it didn't alleviate her anxieties for very long. Toothless came from the mouth of the cave and nudged Hiccup's arm. He pulled the dragon's head into a large hug.

"Isn't that right?" Hiccup laughed. "We've learned our lesson about Mom's cooking."

Toothless warbled, and seemed to make a face.

Astrid hadn't been around Toothless long, not near as long as Hiccup had, but his intelligence astounded her. It seemed that he understood Hiccup's speech and reacted to it. He was not the war-animal that she'd imagined at all, quite the opposite.

"It's still daylight," Hiccup said, attention back on Astrid. He scratched Toothless' chin and the dragon seemed to purr in his arms. "So we'll have to go the long way around the forest."

"How's that?"

"We'd fly south a bit and then come in low to the forest where the hunters won't see us in the air. We'd have to walk by foot from there."

Hunters. They still stalked the woods, maybe in force because of her disappearance. Unless her parents lied, saying she was in bed sick. No visitors. Astrid doubted that Spitelout would go for that game, but who knows.

"Are you okay?" Hiccup asked, hand on her arm.

She inhaled. "I don't know. Hiccup, I feel bad about leaving like I did. My parents might be worried."

"They sold you, Astrid, like a yak for slaughter." He reached around to hold her by the arms, not tightly, but in a secured grip. "I'm not saying they don't love you, or that you can't go home. But I love you. Stay here with me. Stay as long as you want. This can be your home, too."

Home. Berk had been his home, too.

Water puddled behind her eyes. Hiccup pulled her into an embrace and she wrapped her arms around him. She pulled her tears back and forced her sobs down her throat. She pushed those unhappy thoughts out and focused on the hunger; her last meal of boiled wild roots sounded far from appetizing, but better than starving. When the raw emotions had faded, she leaned away from him.

"So, about lunch," she said. Her smile felt forced on her lips. A frown felt better suited, more natural, but she refused to let it show.

Hiccup returned her smile, and leaned in to kiss her. He spoke against her lips, "Anything you'd like, M'Lady."

She stole another kiss before he leaned away. They wound back toward the mouth of the cave; the bitter mountain peak winds tore through her clothes. Toothless bounced along behind them, undisturbed by the fall in temperature. He looked over the edge, teetered on the ledge, and peered down at the rocky cliff that vanished beneath the thick clouds. He looked as afraid to fall as eager to fly.

Thunder rolled; the storm had approached and left the sky a terrible gray. By the peak, the sun lit the bubbling, gray storm clouds in a frightening shade of yellow. She'd never seen such a storm before.

A thought occurred; Astrid let go of Hiccup and spun back toward the cavern. "Where's the Deadly Nadder?"

He shrugged, unworried. "She flew off this morning."

"Why?"

"Don't worry, Astrid. She likes you. She'll be back."

Hiccup hoisted himself onto Toothless' saddle and held his hand out for her. Astrid reached for his hand, and gave the sky one final look to see if the Nadder came back. Toothless flexed his long wings, preparing for the push-off, and then she heard the thunder. It rattled in a strange way, distant, but close, like an earthquake. Astrid looked over Hiccup's shoulder; down below, lightning flashed between the low clouds.

"Are we above the storm?" Astrid asked in awe.

"The front of it, maybe," Hiccup said. "The rest of it will be here soon. Speaking of which, we shouldn't waste time unless you want to get caught in it."

"Can you not fly during a storm?"

"Oh, we can, it's just between the rain and the wind and the lightning it's difficult." Hiccup set his mask over his head and pulled it down with a snap.

Toothless took off and shot through the cold air. He flew straight out from the mountain's peak, away from the dark gray clouds, and bolted down through the white layer at full speed. Astrid clung to Hiccup and buried her face in his back. On the ground-side of the clouds she saw the storm. Thick gray clouds loomed over the forest, thick with rain and thunder. It spat lightning back and forth.

Between the thunder, Astrid heard a caw. She shot up from Hiccup; she knew that sound. She scanned the sky, and between the lightning strikes she saw the incoming dot. Another caw sounded. This time, Toothless responded.

"What is it, bud?" Hiccup said, voice muffled by the mask.

"It's her," Astrid said. "The Nadder."

"I told you she'd come back. She likes you." Hiccup laughed. "You've both got odd timing."

A terrible thunder shook the sky. The Nadder appeared beside them, scales shiny from rain. She looked at Astrid and squawked.

"Stormfly," Astrid said aloud.

 _Squawk_.

"What?" Hiccup asked. They hovered over the forest.

"I named her. Stormfly."

 _Squawk_.

"I think she likes it." Hiccup looked over at the dragon. "I told you she liked you."

They landed in a part of the forest that didn't look the least bit familiar to Astrid. She'd never been on this side of the mountain before. Stormfly landed beside them and trotted right over to Astrid. She nuzzled into Astrid's stomach.

"You came back for me, didn't you?" Astrid said to the dragon. She ran her hand along Stormfly's chin as she'd seen Hiccup do, and gave her a scratch. She cooed to the touch.

Hiccup stood a short distance away, mask resting on the top his head, broad smile on his face.

"What?" Astrid asked, head leaning against Stormfly.

"A Viking talking to a dragon," Hiccup said with a sigh. "I didn't think I'd see the day."

"If I can change, so can everyone else." Astrid looked at Stormfly. She had changed. She had changed a little bit each time she saw Hiccup.

"I'd like to think so." A darkness came over his face and his smile vanished.

"You don't think they can change?"

"Not all of them. They've been killing dragons for a long time. Habits that run generations deep are hard to break overnight."

"Then don't aim for overnight."

Hiccup sighed, and shrugged. "I don't know what to do about it other than just walk into the village and show them Toothless, but they'd fill me full of arrows before I got farther than the tree line."

Astrid felt her hope diminish. Hiccup had a point. Vikings often shot first and asked questions after, if they asked at all.

Stormfly went rigid in Astrid's touch, and she backed away in fear that she had offended the dragon in some way. Stormfly arched her tail, spikes ready to shoot, wings bent to take off. Astrid glanced at Hiccup for advice, but instead of watching her his eyes were on his own dragon. Toothless had the same tense stance, wings bent and eyes wide.

"What's happening?" Astrid asked quickly, backing away from Stormfly.

Hiccup looked between Toothless and Stormfly. Panic lit his face. "It's the alpha."

"What do we do?"

Hiccup looked between Stormfly and Toothless; his panic subsided with each moment. He balled his fists and narrowed his stern gaze at Toothless. In a swift moment, he swung his legs onto the saddle and plopped his mask back down over his face. Toothless looked neither aware or concerned about his rider.

"What are you doing?" Astrid asked, voice rising.

"I have an idea." Hiccup's determined glance met Astrid's. No changing his mind.

Astrid ran to him and jumped on the back of Toothless. Whatever his idea, she didn't want to be left alone in the woods. Hiccup opened his mouth, eyebrows set to argue, but before he could make words, Toothless shot into the air so violently that the both of them lurched backward. Astrid yelped, and clutched onto Hiccup's middle.

Wind rushed past them, whipping her cheeks and tossing her hair in a wild mess. When she dared to look, they were not alone in the sky. Dragons flocked on every side. They flew in the same direction. Gray clouds obstructed the view. Behind her she saw the outline of the mountain. Astrid held onto Hiccup. She was farther from home that she'd ever been. She couldn't see over Hiccup's shoulder, but she felt the tension in his chest. He didn't like it either.

Toothless shifted downward, and they plummeted. The air began to burn, not like the leaf fires or burning homes, but an odorous stench of smoke. It took away her breath and it took several moments to get it back. The dragons crammed together and what little daylight they had vanished. Astrid blinked, but the darkness thickened. Suddenly, firelight brightened the end of the tunnel.

Toothless and the other dragons flew into a massive lava den. The bright red, bubbling lava pooled at the bottom. Heat radiated up, and Astrid wished for the cool winds of the mountains. Toothless found a ledge on which to land, and Astrid took the moment to catch her breath. All around them, dragons landed on perches.

"What is this?" Astrid whispered into Hiccup's ear.

"The den," he said. "The dragon's den."

The lava rumbled, and the entire cavern quaked. Astrid held onto Hiccup as the lava began to wave. It crashed into the rock like water, splashing about in bright red and orange drops. Thunder echoed up from the ground. The lava belched, and with it came _something_. At first it looked like a rock, but it kept rising until a nose appeared, and two blinking eyes.

"What is that?" Astrid felt the words leave her mouth, heard them, but her spirit had left her body. Her trembling hands fell around Hiccup's waist. He, too, had fallen silence.

The massive dragon made a snorting sound that thundered within the cave. Dragons reacted, cawing and crackling back. Toothless warbled. The large dragon blinked its tiny eye, and Astrid felt a paralyzing fear she'd never felt before as that eye glanced in their direction. Its nostrils moved; it growled. A silence deafened the cavern.

"Come on, Toothless, you've got to get us out of here." Hiccup said quickly, panic riding his voice.

Toothless warbled, and Astrid fastened her hands around Hiccup. Toothless took off as the panic erupted; dragons took off in every direction. The large dragon from the lava lurched forward, and its heavy jaws shattered the rocky ledge where Toothless had just been. Toothless flew upward, almost vertically, and Astrid felt herself slipping off of the saddle. She held onto Hiccup tighter, but the feeling remained.

Light burst around them. Cloudy daylight. Toothless flew out and into the light, and rain pelted them. They stopped their sharp ascent, and Astrid readjusted herself on the saddle. The storm surrounded them. Lightning sizzled and thunder banged; her hair stood on end. Hiccup said nothing as he navigated Toothless through the storm, toward the mountain, a tiny spec in the distance. Had they gone that far?

They landed near the base, and Astrid reluctantly slid off. She still shook. She stepped over to a rocky overhang and out of the rain. "Hiccup, what was that?"

"The alpha."

Astrid asked no more. Hiccup looked different. Concerned. Worried. His brows came together; his eyes fell onto something she couldn't see. His fists were balled around the saddle. His shoulders hunched forward. The rain ran in rivets down his armor, saturated his hair, and soaked his clothes through. Still, he sat on the saddle.

"Are you okay?" Astrid asked. She took a careful step toward him, as close as she could to the edge of the rainfall's reach.

Hiccup shook his head, and deeply inhaled. "An underground volcano. That's why I could never find it."

"Hiccup?"

"It's fine," he said, looking at her. His wet hair hung in his face. "I just… I don't know what to do now. I thought that if I could find the alpha, I could reason with him or something, but I don't know. I don't know how negotiable that dragon would be.

Astrid held her tongue. What to tell him?

"Are you still hungry?"

She nodded.

He jumped down off the saddle, wet armor easing the way, and held out his hand. she took it, and he pulled her back into the rain. Toothless trotted behind them as they walked through the forest. The rain hit the leaves with tiny splats, filling the forest with millions of splats and tats, echoing from tree to tree.

"The alpha tells the other dragons to bring food," Hiccup explained as they walked. "Since he's the big dragon, their instincts command them to obey."

"That's why they raid the village. They have to." Astrid wiped the rainwater from her face, but it returned in less than a moment.

"That's right. It's the easier source of food."

"Then they fight back when the Vikings attack them."

Hiccup nodded. "Right. If we could stop the raids, we could stop the fighting."

"But how?"

"That's the golden question."

Hiccup's home came into view, and they tucked behind the waterfall and out of the rain. Back in the warm hearth room, Hiccup stirred the fire and set another pan of cool water over it. Roots again, it seemed.

Astrid pulled off all the wet clothes she could without being indecent; she didn't mind if he saw her naked, but his mother was different. Hiccup did the same, and sat with her in his underwear by the fire.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N – Update! I'm on a roll this weekend. I haven't said so in a while, but y'all are great. Thank for reading! I appreciate you all.

X

 **Chapter 16: Home**

The flickering hearth flames dried the chilly water from Astrid's skin, slowly drying out the clothes that Hiccup had helped her hang up beside it. Freckles dotted his bare back, gathered around his shoulders and speckled down his spine. More than a few times he caught her starting at him, and she only blushed. She didn't look away.

He wasn't unattractive. Skinny, yes, but ugly? No. The same auburn hair grew in fine strands on his chest, drew an arrow down his flat stomach to his hipbones. She spotted him with eyes on her several times, too, and he blushed deeper each time.

Mates. Her heart beat faster at the word. Her mate. His mate. Every hair on her body tingled at even the slightest touch.

Sitting on the floor with him, soaking in the fire's warmth, she could think of no place she would rather be.

"What are you thinking about?" Astrid asked.

"The alpha."

"What about it?"

"That dragon is the one controlling the others. Without him, I-I don't know. Maybe if I could relocate him, or something." His green eyes shuffled, flickering from flame to flame, never leaving the fire's light. It reflected in them, bright and dancing.

"Then go in there and show that dragon who's boss." Astrid tightened her fingers into fist. She punched the air, knocking out an invisible enemy.

"I don't know if it is that simple. Dragons are territorial. If I just go in there, that dragon might…freak out. If he attacks, I'm not sure if I'll be able to do anything about it." He spoke with his hands, each thought accompanied by a graceful motion of his long fingers, a roll of his thin shoulders.

Astrid released her fist. The only way she knew to fight a dragon was with steel, but that dragon looked tougher than a sword or axe. She would need an axe the size of a small island, and arms to wield it.

"I know I can't sit here and do nothing, not while dragons and Vikings are fighting, not while people and dragons are dying." Hiccup closed both of his fists on top of his knobby knees.

"You'll figure it out," Astrid said. She placed a hand over one of his fists. He loosened his grip and took her hand in his.

Hasty footsteps patted along the stone floor. Valka appeared in the doorway with an old basket in her hands. She heaved it onto a stone ledge. A sweet scent followed her inside.

"Berries?" Hiccup asked, leaning forward to spy the basket's contents.

"Yes," Valka said. She rummaged through the pots and pans until she pulled out a shallow square of dented metal. She dumped the berries from the basket into the pan, red, blue, and purple. "Hiccup, fetch some fresh, cool water to wash these."

Hiccup stood and grabbed his cloak. He pulled it around his near-naked self and set off down the corridor with a pan. Toothless bounced along at his side.

"You're still here, I see," Valka said once Hiccup left.

"Yes," Astrid said.

Valka huffed, but said nothing more.

Astrid watched her pick through the berries, tossed out small stems, leaves, and berries that didn't pass her inspection.

"Why did you leave Berk?"

Valka dropped the berry she'd been holding. Her pale green eyes shot to Astrid at once.

"He told you?"

"No," Astrid said. "He told me his name."

She sighed, closed her eyes, and mumbled, "Dear Odin, why."

"He is Stoick's son, isn't he?" Astrid leaned a bit forward. "Which would make you Valka."

"Yes, indeed, it is me. No witches to be found. Does that surprise you?" She spoke in a dry tone, exasperation.

"Not really, but I want to know why you're out here and not home. Why fake your kidnaping?"

"I didn't fake anything," Valka spat. "I left one day and Stoick chose to tell the village whatever he wanted. He chose the ridiculous. Obviously, my fondness of dragons wasn't my own decision but a curse put on me by someone vile and malicious. How could I find sympathy with those blood-thirsty beasts? He didn't understand. I couldn't live that that any longer, so I left. It was the unfortunate event that day that our son followed me. He started to cry and I couldn't leave him alone."

Astrid didn't hesitate. She might not get the chance to ask again. "Does he know about his father? About his home?"

"This is his home," Valka said. "The Vikings would hate him. They already curse him and want him dead. Even if they knew who he was they would want him dead for conspiring with dragons. They would never listen to reason."

"He deserves to know who he is," Astrid said.

"Be that as it may, I will not tell him and you most certainty will not." Valka pointed an accusatory finger at Astrid.

"Why keep it a secret?"

"Because he will want to walk right into the village and they will slaughter him on the spot. I will not send my son to his death." Valka set the pan of berries back down on the rocky ledge, with more force than she had to, rattling the metal against the stone and sending a vicious echo into the air. "I will not speak of it again."

Astrid averted her stare into the flames. How could Valka think of keeping something like that from Hiccup? He should know who he is and where he comes from, no matter how horrible his mother thinks Vikings are. He is the chief's son, the heir to Berk, the rightful future chief.

"What are your plans?" Valka asked.

"My plans?"

"When are you leaving?"

Astrid blinked. "I hadn't thought of it."

"You can't stay here forever," Valka said. "Your parents will send someone looking for you, undoubtedly scour the entire forest looking for you or your body if that is what they believe. You are not only putting yourself at a risk, but Hiccup and myself, too."

"I doubt that my reappearance with stop the witch hunts." Astrid crossed her arms. She felt exposed without Hiccup beside her.

"They might stub them for a while. They no doubt blame these nonexistence witches for your disappearance and will hunt them down at all costs. The hunters are already encroaching farther than they have even been. It will take time for them to arrive here, but if this keeps up they will be at the mountain by year's end."

"What about the dragons? They won't like their home being destroyed," Astrid said.

"No, they will not. They will attack if they have to, to protect themselves, their eggs, their roost, their mates. While docile, they will not be killed willingly. They will fight to the death." Valka looked up from her pan of berries to stare Astrid in the eye. "Is that what you want? For dragons to be slaughtered, homes destroyed, all for the sake of yourself?"

"No, but I-"

"Then I suggest you start thinking of going home where you belong."

Footsteps, both human and dragon, came back down the corridor. Hiccup reappeared in the doorway with a bucket of water, drops glistening down the sides in the firelight. Toothless stood in the doorway, too big to fit through, watching the three humans inside.

"Thank you, Son," Valka said. She took the bucket and poured the cool water over the berries. They began to float and she swished them around with her fingers, slopping water down the sides.

X

"It's not much," Hiccup said. The torch he held cast a warm, flickering light over the small, rocky-walled cavern that served as his bedroom.

"It's cozy," Astrid said.

Cozy, indeed. It wasn't much bigger than her own room back on Berk. A number of old blankets and pillows, which looked to have been stolen, scattered the bed, which was nothing more than a smooth part of the stone floor. Gadgets littered a small table similar to his workshop in his mountain hideaway. Other than those small things, the room held little else.

Toothless jumped onto his bed, a flat stone which he promptly heated with a bright blue-white jet of fire. Hiccup set his torch between two stalagmites and pulled Astrid to his bed. She sat down at once and snuggled underneath the several wool blankets. The multiple layers protected from the hard floor, giving the bed a squishy feel.

She had left her clothes in the hearth room; they were still a little damp. Hiccup had as well, leaving them both in their underwear. Hiccup hadn't minded. He said his bed would be warm enough that she wouldn't need the extra layers. He hadn't said those words with intent in mind, and after they had left his mouth a bright red flush replaced the color in his face.

Astrid scooted toward the wall and Hiccup joined her underneath he covers. He wrapped his arms around her. She settled into his embrace, head against his heart.

Valka's words had left a headache behind. Astrid hadn't let thoughts of the hunters bother her, but now they plagued. Would they search for her until they found her? If they reached the mountain in a year's time, what would happen? They would find all three of them, perhaps, and the secret would be up.

They might all be dead. If the hunters found them like they were now, they would only believe what they already assumed, that Astrid had been taken by the witches. She needed to tell them the truth, whether or not Valka wanted that truth exposed. Berk needed to know that they hunted humans, not witches.

Stoick needed to know that he hunted his own son, his not-evil son.

Astrid sighed into Hiccup's chest. His hand squeezed her shoulder.

What would Stoick say? If she told him, he might laugh. He might not, as well. He might demand evidence, proof that they lived. She doubted that she could find Valka's home by herself, coming from the village. Each time she had returned, Hiccup had been leading.

If she could just get someone on her side, like Stoick, or Gobber even, then maybe the village would listen to reason. It sounded better than waiting to be found. Valka was right about that. If the hunters found her first, there would be no talking. She would be dead before she reached the village, as would Hiccup and Toothless.

Stoick needed to know about the alpha, about Hiccup, and about Valka. Knowing that they yet lived would eradicate his hatred of the forest, of dragons, and of the witches that didn't exist.

But would he listen?

Stoick might, given his mood, whereas no one else would give her the time of day if she spoke of people in the woods, of dragons as friends. Her parents might, or they would lock her up at once.

Astrid lied awake into the night. The torch's light burned down slowly and at the last of its flickering light, Astrid crawled over Hiccup and to the edge of the bed. Hiccup stirred and rolled over onto his side. Astrid paused once her feet touched the cool floor. If Hiccup woke, she would have no better excuse than the bathroom, from which he would expect her return quickly.

Hiccup did not stir and Toothless slept soundly. Astrid tiptoed to the torch, dislodged it from its perch, and crept into the corridor. Her clothes hung exactly where she'd left them. After dressing as quietly as she could, Astrid took the torch and found her way back through the waterfall chamber and into the darkness of the forest.

 _Squawk!_

Astrid jumped at the sound, but relaxed as Stormfly bounced forward.

"Hey, girl," Astrid said. She met the dragon with a warm hand on her snout, and hugged her horn close. The dragon breathed a deep sigh into her torso. "I knew it was you."

 _Squawk._

"You want to help me, girl?"

 _Squawk!_

Astrid tossed the torch into the waterfall's puddling end. The flame didn't go out at once. Its yellow light struck through the watery world, disembodied by the shimmering waves, before going dark.

Astrid climbed onto Stormfly's bare back and settled herself on the ridge between her muscular wings. She took a deep breath, having never flown without Hiccup, and not flown on Stormfly that many times, her nerves rattled.

Stormfly chirped, turned her spiked head around and blinked at her rider.

Astrid held her breath. Was that concern in the dragon's eyes? Surely she imagined such an emotion. She stared harder into Stormfly's yellow eyes, but the concern she saw did not dissipate.

"I'm okay, Stormfly," Astrid said, patting the dragon's back.

She chirped in response and stretched her wings out, giving a little nudge toward the ground.

"Yeah, we're going for a flight."

 _Squaaawk_!

Astrid held on to the wing joints, then readjusted her hands to thick spikes that jutted out of Stormfly's crown. The hold felt stronger on her fingers and better for her back.

Stormfly stretched out her wings and gave a mighty thrust toward the ground, swishing dirt, leaves, and twigs out of her way. She rose into the air and pushed forward; Astrid's grip on her spikes turned white-knuckled. The cold air whipped past and finally the dragon's ascent leveled. The treetops blurred together below into an uneven ground, lumps in the pale darkness of the moonless night. The stars peeked between the clouds here and there, but mostly remained hidden.

She took Stormfly around the forest, here and there, but never saw the blinking fires below. How could she with the sparse stars so bright? So close? She dared Stormfly closer, to breach the clouds, to fly on the other side of the world; they burst through the wet, chilly clouds into the far-side, the stars' side of the earth, twinkling and dazzling with a billion lights.

Astrid remembered her purpose. To inform, not to dally. She pushed Stormfly downward with a simple gesture of her spikes, and breached back through the clouds. They had gone farther that Astrid thought. Berk sparkled below with dotted red-yellow torches and windows.

The sight of her home caused an upsurge of gladness and a bout nerves. She had left on rather unseemly conditions, no doubt things had only ripened since then. She could turn back and let more time pass, more time to heal the wounds, to ease the torment. Astrid nudged Stormfly higher, out of the sentries' immediate sight, just underneath the clouds.

Stoick's house sat above the village, high and in charge, a stronghold of his command. She spotted her own house; a tiny light flickered in the upstairs window, her bedroom. Astrid caught her breath before it escaped.

"See that, girl? They do miss me," Astrid whispered to Stormfly, who gave a gentle nod of her head.

Astrid circled around the village once, eyes on her house, her home. Clouds thickened and moved, blocking what little starlight had come through. In the renewed darkness, Astrid saw only her home, the flickering light in the window.

 _Squawk_! Stormfly jerked backward suddenly.

Astrid held tight to keep from lurching forward. "What is it, girl?"

Her answer came. A boulder flew into the air, barely missing them, capturing the empty space where they had been only moments before.

"Oh, no," Astrid gasped.

Down below, hunters and Vikings gathered, catapults ready. Stormfly rattled and chirped as another speeding rock came flying toward them. She dodged with a dangerous jolt to the side.

"Get us out of here!" Astrid shouted.

Stormfly dodged; a boulder blocked their escape. She lurched backward. Stormfly fought her way through the boulders and arrows, edging closer and closer to the ground. Astrid held on, knowing well their strategy. The closer a dragon was to the ground, the easier the prey.

"No, Stormfly! Up! Up!"

It was too late; a net flew into the air above them; a boulder blocked the way forward. The net crashed down on top of them, pushing Astrid against Stormfly's back. With her wings collapsed, Stormfly squawked as they tumbled to the ground.


End file.
